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The 





Mystery 

of 

Ashton Hall 


Benjamin Nitsua 


Gm,- 


I 

i' 

-sis 


THE AUSTIN PUBLISHING CO. 

Rochester, N. Y. 



Copyright, 1910 
By B. F. Austin 


All rights reserved. 




'!.■ ’' 0 ' 




-jii 



©CI.Aa71569 


PROLOGUE OF THE REPORTER. 

In undertaking to give a plain and truthful account of 
the very startling and mysterious occurrences in our 

quiet little hamlet of W e, N. Y., now known and 

talked about as the “Mark Ashton Mystery,” I want it 
clearly understood that I am not obtruding my humble 
self among authors and writers of fiction. 

Indeed, I am not the writer of the greater part of this 
strange history, but rather a compiler, or editor, if you 
will, of narratives furnished by the parties who were 
chief actors in the drama. 

I have only undertaken the work of collecting and 
revising the various narratives after much solicitation on 
the part of public men, and after much careful self-exam- 
ination of my motives and fitness for the task. 

As to the accuracy of the reports of the investigations 
held before and after Mr. Ashton's death ( ?) and the 
accounts of those conferences among the police and 
detectives, where I served as official stenographer, I can 
testify to their absolute accuracy. 

If any one questions my motives — ^and no doubt some 
will — I have the approval of my own conscience, the 
approbation of my wife and the endorsement of my 
pastor in the Chalmers Presbyterian Church, where I 
have been a member over thirty years. I always hold 
that if a man can feel his own conscience approves an 
enterprise, and if his wife and pastor endorse him, he is 
strong to face the world. 

I take a humble pride in saying also that I have served 
for thirteen years as co^wt stenographer and have never 
failed to give satisfaction. 

Though not experienced in the making of books, 1 
can truthfully claim some qualifications as a reporter, not 
only in giving the correct language used, but also in 
describing, as I have in this work, what occurs and is 
pertinent to the case, in the conduct and looks of the wit- 
nesses. 


7 


If I have gone beyond this and seemed in several 
instances to attempt to read the thoughts and motives of 
witnesses, and to explain in some cases the emotions that 
swept over them in peculiar circumstances — well, God 
forgive me if I have mis-judged any! I will only vouch 
that I have given a truthful account of how matters 
appeared to me, a totally disinterested spectator as far as 
one could be. 

Doubtless some will not be able to believe this narra- 
tive — so true it is that truth is stranger than fiction. That 
a perfectly sane man and a man of brilliant parts and of 
high principles, as I maintain, like Mr. Ashton, should 
have marked out for himself the seemingly unnatural 
course he did — that he should have had the courage and 
heroism to pursue his plan relentlessly for nearly a score 
of years, with many unfortunate results at first, but with 
a noble success in the end — will seem to multitudes unbe- 
lievable. 

And what shall we say of the cowardly crime and the 
events that followed thick and fast — events that seemed 
to us at the time too wonderful for fact, though we saw 
the evidences of their truth before our eyes. I shall 
blame no one for disbelieving this narrative — for I even 
doubted my own senses at this stage of affairs. 

And then again many will question the truthfulness 
of Mr. Jaffery’s psychic method of investigating crime 
and tracing criminals. Heaven knows there are mysteries 
here so deep and vast that I shudder at the thought of 
touching them in my narrative. ‘T make no pretense of 
explaining anything in this part of my story,” I fre- 
quently said to my wife and to my minister. ‘T only 
attempt to give the result of Mr. Jaffery’s work. No one 
shall budge me from this resolution. I shall never, never 
attempt to explain his work.” 

That ‘the course of true love never runs smoothly’ 
is an old adage, and the reader will find in this story 
proof both of the rule itself and of the exception that 
proves the truth of the rule. 

I have had some help, I confess, in making the frame- 
work of the story out of my personal knowledge of the 
events, the newspaper reports, the diary of Mr. Molson, 
and the narratives kindly furnished by the various 

8 


writers. I sought the advice of a very practical publisher 
and he tells me the following is the best order in which 
to arrange the narratives (I shall follow his counsel) ; 

1. Prologue by John Gibson Hume. 

2. The Story of the Crime and its Investigation up to 

the Arrest of Mr. Molson. By John Gibson 

Hume. 

3. Personal Diary of Herman Molson. 

4. Sickness and Death of Mark Ashton. 

5. Strange Happenings at Ashton Hall. By John 

Gibson Hume. 

6. Miss Lucille’s Narrative. 

7. The Solving of the Mysteries. 

8. The Story of the Midnight Ride. By John Eben 

Williams. 

9. The Strange Disappearance of Herman Molson. 

10. The Rose Arbor on Chestnut Island (Molson’s 

Diary resumed). 

11. Later Happenings at Ashton Hall. 

12. The Day of Revelation. 

This will be, then, the order of the story and I wish 
to say before closing this Prologue that all the narratives 
are given precisely as they were written with one excep- 
tion. It is this: In Miss Lucille’s Narrative she alludes 
to her father’s “resurrection,” and I could not, as a strict- 
ly orthodox man, allow that to pass. I changed it to 
“resuscitation,” a word which will not excite controversy 
or arouse opposition. I am glad to say that my wife 
and my minister both approve the change, the minister 
most warmly, because he thought the term “resurrection” 
was a sacred and scriptural word, employed almost solely 
in connection with the Lord himself and his miracles, and 
the use of the term here would, in his opinion, be almost 
blasphemous. 

I humbly submit my work to the reader who will 
judge how faithfully and impartially I have performed 
my task. 

John Gibson Hume. 


9 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE TRAGEDY AT ASHTON HALL. 


John Gibson Hume. 


I can scarcely state the case of the murder more suc- 
cintly, or express more fully the popular impression of 
the time, or the particular impressions of those first upon 
the scene and first among the many investigators of the 
crime, than by transcribing, as I shall quite fully and 
freely, the reports of our city press concerning this 
shocking tragedy. Many circumstances lent importance 
to this cold-blooded assassination of our chief financial 


magnate in W e. The peculiar character of the 

Banker, the fabulous fortune which he is said to have 
amassed, the entire absence of any apparent motive for 
the crime or of any clue to the murderer, the suddenness 
of the shock, coming like a “bolt out of the blue,” together 
with the many wild conjectures that at once filled the air 
— all combined to wake up the brain and heart of 

W e, as never before in my recollection. We copy — 

leaving out the sensational headlines — from the W e 

Clarion: 


t relieved from 
lult committed 
of its employ- 
3 offending em- 
anated a special 
jT on station plat- 
cection of life and 

rrier relieved from 
j upon the ground 
le assault the em- 
thout the scope of 

waiting to board 
'latform, one of 
aid to him, “If 
vill smash your 
laintiff replied, 


“One of the most shocking crimes, 
one of the direst tragedies that ever 
disgraced our fair land occurred in 
our hitherto peaceful city last even- 
ing between 8 and 10 o’clock in the 
private office of the Mark Ashton 
Banking Company, where the leading 
capitalist of our city met his death 
(it is scarcely possible he will survive 
the day) at the hands of a cowardly 
assassin. He was found by the care- 
taker of the bank sitting in his chair, 
his head having fallen over on his left 


j A common ca? 

! responsibilitv f 
1 upon a passeng 
ees, by the fac. 

I ployee had bee 
officer to mainta 
forms and for tl 
property. 

, Neither Is tl 
' liability in such 
that in committ 
ployee was actii 
1 his authority. 

1 While plaintif 
a car on defer 
defendant’s em] 
you keep on pu 
head off;” to 


10 


Thereupon the 
•aintiff in the 
that Plaintiff’s 
1 he employee did 
Lion as a matter 
that was com- 

jUsh (B. H. Ames 
ty, of counsel), 

mmplaint sets 
r appellant, 
it dismissing 
of plaintiff’s 
sed, and new 

’ewster against 
Transit Corn- 
ion — the first 
d on the plain- 
's servant, and 
.ous prosecution, 
was a tailor by 
le from work, en- 
tation of the de- 
/enue and Eigh- 

Court of New 
for his ticket, 
box, and was 
/rm waiting to 
1 .ence shows that 
il Kellerman said 
(ou keep on push- 
; head off.” The 
' ahead and do 
,t,ruck the plain- 
ihbed him, and 
lead. Plaintiff 
head was split 
ch blood. The 
the complaint, 
' ellerman being 
sndant was not 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

arm and a bullet wound in his brain. 
The bullet entered the brain at the 
edge of his heavy chestnut hair above 
and back of his right temple and is 
lodged somewhere in the brain or 
skull. A pool of blood on the fioor 
and a stream of blood from the wound 
over his face, coat and table told the 
ghastly tale of murderous hate, or 
deadly revenge, or, shall we say, of 
inhuman coveteousness. It was evi- 
dently the work of an assassin and of 
one who planned the crime with the 
greatest possible skill and executed 
it with marvelous secrecy. A revol- 
ver using a cartridge of the same 
grade as that which killed Mr. Ash- 
ton, and which was known to have 
been kept in a drawer of the library, 
just across the hall from where the 
fatal bullet was fired, is now missing 
from its accustomed place! The po- 
lice are busily 'investigating but say 
little, and nothing for publication. 

“Citizens who knew Mark Ashton 
well and his interesting daughters 
(he has been a widower for seventeen 
years) and the clerks and attendants 
in the bank and home, seem positive 
that the work is that of some secret 
enemy seeking revenge. Yet it is not 
known that Mark Ashton had personal 
enemies. As the Banker has only re- 
sided here three years, and his former 
life is but little known, it is suggested 
by some that the crime may have its 
roots in the distant past. Others 
again are disposed to think that in 
some. of his large and successful stock 
operations in New York City, carried 
on in some cases by himself, and more 
generally by Parish, his head clerk 
and confidential man, he may have 
excited the bitter enmity of some de- 
feated opponent who sought in this 
way to revenge his financial defeats. 

“The murder is the one absorbing 
topic of the city. In every store and 
shop, and every street corner and in 
every saloon, in every hotel and club. 


“Go ahead and 
employee struc 
over the head 
reply to the thr» 
not constitute ju 
of law for the a, 
mitted. 

James L. Quack 
and John Montg' 
for respondent. 

Seabury, J. ‘ 

Stuart G. Gibbo 
pany. From a j, 
the complaint at tl 
case, he appeals, 
trial ordered. 

Action by Ba' 
the Interborouf 
forth two cans 
for an assault c 
tiff by the def 
the second for n 
The plaintiff, w^ 
trade, on his wa^ 
tered the eleva' 
fendant at Thl 
York, Trial Ter 

Appeal from 
teenth street. H( 
and dropped it i 
standing on the 
board a car. Th< 
a special officer 7 
to the plaintiff: 
ing, I will smas’ 
plaintiff replied 
it.” Kellerman 
tiff in the face 
clubbed him ove 
was knocked do’ 
open and covei 
court below disn 
on the ground th 
a special officer, tl 


II 


/Herman was ap- 
cer upon the re- 
it, who in its ap- 
it was necessary 
' should be ap- 
Tder on station 
> protection of 
The defendant 
, shield and cap, 
is salary. Keller- 
:o the Eighteenth 
e defendant’s su- 
laintiff attempted 
■’etail the direc- 
dant’s superin- 
man, and more 
js were. This 
by the trial 
ought to he in- 
ole, and was im- 
ice of such evi- 
■ it was error to 
Kellerman was 
>f the defend- 
icidentally he 
ot relieve the 
ihility for his 
selected him, 
\ted a “special 
, assigned him 
aim to do that 
duty to per- 
rstand that the 
was a “special 
reater authority 
, if he had been 
‘^^he defendant, 
.endant, there 
)ee(n merely 
.pon the evi- 
jefendant would 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

and in every home the one absorbing 
question on the lips of young and old, 
is, who shot Mark Ashton? and, with 
what motive was it done? 

“Until every one in and about the 
house and bank has been thoroughly 
questioned and all the facts of this 
dreadful crime are laid bare, we shall 
not have the data for a correct judg- 
ment of the case and we must re- 
strain our indignation and cultivate 
patience, knowing that ‘justice, 
though lame of foot, will surely over- 
take the culprit.’ 

“At present while but little is known 
of the facts and circumstances bear- 
ing on the case, one inference seems 
warranted and that is, robbery had 
nothing to do with the murder. Not 
only was nothing stolen, but even the 
very thought of robbery seems an ab- 
surdity when the hour and circum- 
stances of this deed of blood are taken 
into consideration. 

“It seems impossible to build up a 
plausible theory of suspicion against 
anyone usually having access to the 
house or ofiBce. On the other hand, if 
the master of Ashton Hall was shot 
by a stranger, how did the murderer 
gain access to the hall adjoining the 
private office from which it seems 
evident the shot was fired? 

“Again if the revolver used was that 
accustomed to lie in the drawer of 
Mark Ashton’s library, how could a 
stranger gain access to this, even pre- 
suming he knew of its existence? 

“The police have been very reticent 
but from the few words overheard by 
our reporter in their conversation 
one with another, from the expression 
of their faces and general demeanor, 
the impression, clear and distinct, has 
been gained that there are very pe- 
culiar elements connected with this 
crime, and that a most infamous deed 
of diabolic cunning has disgraced our 
fair community, which it will be ex- 

12 


liable for his ac 

It appears th^' 
pointed a speci 
quest of the de 
plication stated 
that a special 
pointed “to mail 
platforms and i 
life and prope 
paid for Kelle; 
and also paid h 
man was assig 
street station 1 
perintendent. 
to show in grei 
tions which the 
tendent had give] 
precisely what h 
evidence was e: 
court. The evid 
troduced was ad 
properly exclude 

Even in the 
dence, we think 
dismiss the comj 
primarily an ei 
ant, and the fat 
was a public offl( 
defendant from 
acts. The def( 
caused him to be 
officer,’’ paid hij 
to work, and re 
which it was i; 
form. I do nol 
fact that Kelle- 
ofidcer’’ gave hii 
than he would h i 
merely an emp I 
an employee of { 
If Kellerman 


Taken from the W — e Clarion. “A” where Mark Ashton was shot. 



•I 


a‘ 

> • 


o 

Co 

M 



l^ATCR STfiE:ET. 


r 


Farmers Alley. 


icise legislative 
oeing clear (In 
>age 177, 113 N. 
R. A. 464), and 
in 1887, the 
terence to the 
cnaine, supra 
E. 759 [12 L. 
.en it inserted 
4uestion is not 
>e section is so 
e duty of dis- 
I by both parties 
supporting their 
A brief review 
erefore neces- 
ie (127 N.Y.80), 
gn corporations 
decedents being 
perfectly clear 
hat the stocks 
j corporations 
ther kept there 
safe-keeping, 

s of New York, 
)f 1885 (which 
9 law as amend- 
t it was singu- 
bscure in its 
kept by a res- 
9w York in a 
Chicago, and 
eath of the 
hat state is 
tate, and in 
his state in 
n the court 

ji the state of 
• the New York 
our statute is 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

tremely difficult to unravel and bring 
home to the transgressor. 

“It seems exceedingly strange that 
no one, so far as report has reached 
us, seems to have heard a revolver 
fired. Tomorrow we shall give a plan 
of the rooms in the Ashton mansion 
and the offices adjoining — now in one 
building — from which our readers can 
more intelligently grasp the circum- 
stances and conditions surrounding 
this appalling tragedy. 

“As it seems evident there is but 
one place from which the assassin 
could have fired the fatal bullet which 
killed Mark Ashton, at the angle of 
incidence with which it actually 
reached his brain, and that is in the 
hall near the wicket window, a little 
to one side and above the level of 
Mr, Ashton’s private office, and as this 
bullet was fired at an hour when no 
one in bank or office heard the report 
of its discharge, it seems to imply 
the full knowledge of one acquainted 
with house and office or the posses- 
sion of super-human cunning, or both. 

“The theory of suicide is, of course, 
utterly out of the question. But, in- 
asmuch as multitudes of silly people 
will adopt theories without any facts 
to support them, it may be well to 
point out to the public the incontro- 
vertible proofs of murder in this case. 
First, it would be utterly impossible 
for any man to hold a revolver and 
lodge a bullet in his own brain where 
Mark Ashton was shot without leav- 
ing on his hands or head, or both, 
marks of the explosion. Second, after 
shooting himself as Mark Ashton was 
shot (if that were possible) a man 
could not possibly secrete the revolver 
with which the shot was fired. 

“Third, there was no one in 

W e less likely to commit suicide 

than Mark Ashton. No one had more 
to enjoy in this life. All reports agree 
in stating that he was in unusually 
good spirits the last few days. 

H 


dent, when locate 
subject to the sta 
property there in 
foreign stocks am 
ident of the sta^ 
safety deposit 
found there af 
owner. The st; 
copied from that 
reviewing the a 
support of its ( 
says: 

“The decision' 
New York cons 
statute upon t 
based are relied 
to this litigatio 
respective conte 
of these decisif ; 
sary. 

“In the Roma, i 
and bonds of ' 
owned by nonresi 
subject to the ta* 
that both of th' 
and bonds of 
found in the sti 
for investment J 
were subject to tj 

“The court of ^ 
in passing on the 
was very nearly li 
ed in 1887), sta^, 
larly involved 
phraseology ar 
intent very fa 
re Enston, sup. 

Y., 21 N. E. 8; 
after it was a. 
same court said | 
amendment, in j 
(page 84, 127 N 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


;ks and bonds 
I or domestic cor- 
i case (144 N.Y. 

L 1894, after dis- 
ease, supra, and 
I that it was not 


■Jase whether the 
Te of foreign or 
?, held that, un- 
tax could not he 
■ foreign corpor- 


j .te, 84 App. Div. 
153, the Appellate 
te held, in 1903, 


“Fourth, the wicket window 
through which mail is passed in from 
the hallway, just beside the door, and 
which is protected on the inner side 
by a board slide cover, was found 
slightly opened. A bullet fired 
through this window would produce 
precisely such a wound as Mark Ash- 
ton received. 

“The Banker still lives, but his 
death is expected any hour. 

“Rumor declares that extraordin- 
ary efforts are being put forth by the 
police to ferret out the facts in the 
case and our readers may rest as- 
sured that no effort or sacrifice of 
money will be spared to discover the 
criminal and to bring him to justice.” 


The follo'wing account was taken verbatim 
- W e Republican, Fourth edition: 


'lid indeed be a 
f a passenger, 
le plaintiff ap- 
ould not even 
.ed to a jury. 

', and new trial 
the appellant to 
concur. 

’ New York, in 
i 1887 statute 
certain stocks 
.ually kept in 
jsident decedent, 
int or merely for 
'ject to the tax. 

appear in that 
foreign corpora- 
d the legislature 
Iroad corpora- 
be in a sense 
3 ir employes are 
the convenience 


THE ASHTON TRAGEDY. 


Particulars of the Crime — ^Facts 
About the Ashton Family. 


“In addition to our full reports in 
earlier editions of this most deplor- 
able tragedy — the most shocking 
crime in the history of our city — 
we now supply many details gath- 
ered by reporters and most interest- 
ing facts concerning this remarkable 
man and his lovely daughters, now 
prostrated with grief and horror. 

“Mark Ashton came to W e three 

years ago, reputed to be a man of im- 
mense fortune and purchased the old 
Hooker residence, now known as Ash- 
ton Hall, and an adjoining smaller 
building which he removed so as to 
unite them in one structure. The 
house underwent extensive repairs and 
alterations and the smaller building 
was fitted up as an office, the family 
residing, in the meantime, at the Ho- 

15 


dence disclosed, i 
be liable for his 
under such circ 
bility upon the 
acts were not w 
employment. 

The defendai 
rier, owed a d’ 
that its emplo’ 
in purchasing 
found in the s 
tion left on dep 
wish to accomp 
these words? 
easily answered, 

from the 


porations. In th( 
6), the same cr 
cussing the R' 
referring to 
said in the R< 
stocks and b( 
domestic corp 
der the act of 
levied on the st. 
ations. 

“In re Gibbes 
510, 83 N. Y. f 
Division of th 
that the bonds 
R. A. 401]: ‘W. 

whether for . 
safekeeping, -v 
It did not, hv 
case whether 
were issued by t 
and bonds, wl 
that state by 


(U d 


to Otis 
;., 1320 

20 

00 

&c. to 
’ur, &c.. 

67 

00 

P. C. 

300 

00 

C. Tuck- 

13 

00 


ipreme Court. 

iina Raster 
in favor of 


in favor of 
favor of 
in fa- 


$ 131 00 
240 67 
42 87 
101 66 


ipal Court. 


avor of 

$28 00 

nother, in 
;s National 

43 06 

’or of El- 

19 94 


r of Jas. 

; against 
it issue) 19 88 
avor of 

58 05 

f Leland 
14 45 


iceedings. 

favor of 
;ty at 512 

$10 00 

favor of 

sr floor) ... 10 50 


'US. 

■icholson$ 44 03 
John J. 


ortgages. 

, to Peter B. 


idgment. 

; Tucker; $1000. 
rtgages. 

largaret Miller, 
V May Snavlin, 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

tel Traymore. After the changes had 
been effected, the house was fur- 
nished in such expensive and elegant 
style that our citizens were at once 
impressed with the fact that a man 
of taste and abundant means had 
come into our midst. At the house- 
warming reception the elite of 
W e were invited and all that lav- 

ish expenditure, with art and music, 
kindness and courtesy, could do, was 
done to make the best families of our 
city feel thoroughly at home in Ash- 
ton Hall. 


fendant is nc' 
cer was actu 
employment 
finds no sui. 
the motion 
the plaintiff 
favorable infe 
the evidence, 
in taking the cfc 
can the reply ol 
of Kellerman, 
be held to cons 


“Since then these palatial apart- 
ments have been a social center for 
our citizens and the beautiful and ac- 
complished daughters, Helena and 
Lucile, of whom we shall have more 
to say presently, have won friends on 
every hand, while the Banker has 
mingled but little in society and has 
been much absorbed in his large 
financial interests here and in New 
York. Since opening his private 
banking establishment, known as the 
Mark Ashton Banking Company, he 
has done a very large business in 
notes, exchange and stocks, his prin- 
cipal dealings being on New York 
Stock Exchange where he was gen- 
erally represented by his agent, Mr. 
Parish. He has also done a very 
large business in the farming com- 
munity through local agents. He was 
also interested in real estate in our 
city and has made most fortunate ven- 
tures in the erection of several new 
blocks and apartment houses, so that 
rich as he was, when he came Into 
our midst, it is popularly reported 
that his wealth has doubled within 
the last three years. Large as his 
fortune is known to be no one has 
ever been able to gain from him or 
from his clerk any direct hint as to 
the amount of his wealth, but a well 
informed business man of our city, 
who is likewise interested in the Stock 


a matter of law 
was committee' 
tions are supi 
public servants 
supposed to pi 
of the public, 
parody upon j. 
grossly assaulte 
pears to have b 
have his case s* 
Judgment re 
ordered, with c 
abide the eveni 
the Court of Api 
1891, in constru 
of that state, h' 
was. It is 1 
of a jury in 
the official ac 
be used for tl 
ant and in pro 
or property. An« 
the character of 
to be determined 
upon the same 
not a public o 
The content, 
that the assaull 
plaintiff, and t 


l6 


nonresident de- 
iOt subject to the 
was affirmed by- 
in 176 N. Y. 565, 
'.ast decision hav- 
ng after the in- 
lich we are now 
ed, it cannot be 
islature had the 
3w York statute 
ision, in mind at 
ment of our stat- 
herland on Stat. 
the New York 
3 Bronson, 150 
% L. R. A. 238, 

Re Houdayer, 
718, 34 L. R. 
ep. 642, in Re 
irely clear as to 
^resident deced- 
"ate was intend- 
• the New York 
he statute pre- 
here, as well as 
le statute, there 
■ding, as does 
"hat the bonds 
habitually in 
•>nly here for 
taxed. In 

is question, 
:o keep in 
applicable to 
d particularly 
sovereign is 
ntion to tax in 
.s language.’ 
.apra, on page 
ge 517, 22 Sup. 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Exchange of New York, has estimat- 
ed Mark Ashton’s profits in stocks 
during the past six months at over 
half a million. 

“He was a remarkable man in 
many ways. Standing over six feet 
in height and of a commanding pres- 
ence, with a most pleasing and strik- 
ing physiognomy and an inherent dig- 
nity which suggested and compelled 
respect, he was no less distinguished 
by his keen and penetrating reason, 
wide general intelligence and com- 
mand of excellent language and man- 
ner. He had the grace of movement 
that characterizes little children, the 
soft modulation of voice that belongs 
to a cultured woman, and the finished 
manners of a courtier. 

“There were in him individual pe- 
culiarities that nearly every one no- 
ticed and wondered at — peculiarities 
that set everybody guessing as to 
their meaning and origin, and which 
nobody has yet explained. Two ot 
these have been observed and much 
commented upon since Mr. Ashton 

came to W e. The first is the 

manner of speech and action that im- 
presses all who meet him socially with 
the thought that he has been an ac- 
tor on the stage and possesses natural 
or acquired dramatic ability, or both, 
of a high order. This; impression 
originated not from anything artificial 
or apparently studied in his words or 
conduct, but rather from the ease with 
which he expressed his ideas, not only 
by language but also by every look 
and pose of the body, and the fullness 
of that expression as evidenced by the 
depth of impression he produced by 
what he said. He could say a little 
thing so effectively, and had such a 
reserve power of expression, that in 
many minds the question arose: 
Where has this man learned his art of 
impressing people? 

“Another characteristic of the 
Banker of Ashton Hall, perhaps we 

17 


Cottman, Geori 
W Kenyon, 

Grape St 

Benway, Prederi 
Georg-e H. Drie 
1215 Carbon St 
LaFaveir, Lewiy 
Lamanna, Stc 
Montague, H T 
er. Fur, . . . 

Judgiuen 

James A. Has 
and James 1 
Clara Clark, 
Judge, Willian. 

Ada Stillman 
Charles E. Deruc 
Herman Single, 
Easton, Frederic 
vor of Ada M. 


Judgments 
Taken — 

Thos. J. C 
Henry P. ; 
Aaron Merr, 
favor of Sa^ 

Bank 

Joseph Kaleztki, 
mer E. Clark 
Entered — 

Annie B. Cronl 
S. CafErey (E 
James S. Cal 
Domenico Bag 
John Chafee, i 
W. Henry . . 


Summai 

William Wallace, 
Geo. Shane, p 
West Ostrande 
Floyd Woodwon 
Geo. T. Cochrg 
206 Grape St. 


Kelley Bros 
Francis E. ] 
Cameron. & 


Assignii 

William Ja 
Smith; $600.00 

Satisfactio 

Eva Kase, &c., tt 
Discharge 

Elizabeth Matt 
dated July 31, 19f 
Matilda Bell 


Margaret Har- 
08; $166.12. 

I , to Sarah A. 
i, 1889; $350.00. 
Sarah M. Bren- 

n. 

h A Warner, 
/O. 

o Otto Johnson, 


OUNTV. 


y ref., to 
property 

$1206 41 

C. Haw- 
Harks, 

7 00 

>anette 

Man- 

1000 00 


:es. 
Haw- 
I pro- 


700 00 


JOUNTY. 


Is. 

o Ward G. 

Albion . . 1 00 


ges. 

jeorge W. 

>dina .... $8000 00 
Board of 
^metery, 

500 00 

avor of 

$ 85 96 


JNTY. 

1 wife, to 
roperty in 

1 00 

’ Emily J. 

Henry S. 

1 Sodus. . 1 00 

ablo Mar- 
.•operty in 
1 00 


»ses 

'<>!. to Sarah 
in New- 

$ 150 00 

"Edward 

odus . 4000 00 
gages. 

350 00 

•ioches- 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

should rather say peculiarity, which 
many noted and no one understood, 
was in a sudden lighting up of his 
face when some wave of emotion — 
and he was a man of deepest feeling, 
as all agree — swept over him. On 
j this point there was hopeless con- 
fusion of opinion among all our so- 
ciety critics, many of whom studied 
the Banker and discussed him, just as 
the students of Tolstoy and Ibsen dis- 
cuss these great writers and devour 
every morsel of gossip about them 
and their works, although the Banker 
has never — so far as is known — been 
on the stage, or appeared in literary 
fields or attempted music or art. This, 
then, is the peculiar fact about him 
that though, so far as we know, Mr. 
Ashton has done nothing but acquire 
money, no one who has frequently 
met him would be at all surprised to 
learn he had composed a powerful 
drama, or won the plaudits of thou- 
sands by his impersonations on the 
stage, or triumphed in art or music, 
or been a powerful leader of men. 

“This peculiar irradiation of face, 
a lighting up of the features so dis- 
tinctly discernible that one could al- 
most fancy seeing his face so illumined 
in a dark room, was not a frequent 
occurrence. It happened but seldom, 
but its effect on the beholder was not 
soon forgotten. All who witnessed 
it agreed that it was wrought by the 
play of deep emotions, but whether 
these were anger or sorrow or some 
uncommon feeling could not be deter- 
mined. 

“He was the soul of good humor 
and company, could tell and enjoy a 
good story, and seemed to enjoy so- 
ciety so thoroughly while in it, that 
his friends wondered why he should 
give his social nature so little play 
and allow business to so largely en- 
gross his life. He was a man of wide 
reading, of a philosophic turn of mind, 
a radical, it is said, in politics and a 

l8 


in a decent mam 
from attack. T 
a common can 
and commits ai 
senger, the carr. 
V. Interborough 
pany, 187 N. Y. Z- 
Nor does the fac 
a “special office* 
situation or rel 
its liability. It 
to hold that, bi 
caused its emplo; 
as a “special oflS 
relieved of respr 
If, by virtue o 
special officer, 
public official, h* 
was thereby incre 
ant was not rel' 
responsibility f-r 
be under for ti 
its employes, 
anomaly if th 
public power i 
nate the employ 
public officer, the 
this account be 
bility for the s 
performs in at 
his duties to it. 

In Sharp v. 1 
Y. 100, 76 N. J 
was- held liable 
officer employe 
yards in shooti 
ing a ride. In t 
“A railroad co. 
servant who ha 
officer, acquires 
such employmej 


: I a 


i i protect them 
he employe of 
tes this rule 
upon a pas- 
able. Busch 
Transit Com- 
j /2, 80 N. E. 197. 

-t Kellerman was 
l[ any way alter the 
'■ e defendant from 
Ii he preposterous 
iS the defendant 

I! be designated 

i[ : was thereby 

'I .y for his acts. 

II 

I esignation as a 
I rman became a 
ity to the public 
■ ; but the defend- 
from the same 
1 ts that it would 
jf any other of 
j 1, indeed, be an 
' aat, because the 
m used to desig- 
the defendant a 
I idant should on 
3d of responsi- 
ich its employe 
mg to discharge j 

R. Co., 184 N. 

, the defendant 
act of a special 
to protect its 
who was steal- 
e the court said: 

, employing a 
to be a public 
immunity from 
stables and po- 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

reformer in religion. He lived largely 
in a world of his own thought and 
feeling, despite his great enjoyment 
of social life and his great capacity 
for winning the admiration and love 
of his fellow men. Not much has been 
learned of his early history and an- 
tecedents, save that he is a native- 
born American, spent his youth in the 
West and South, but came here from 
Europe. 

“The man w’ho now lies dying at 
Ashton Hall was but little understood 
by the multitude — in fact, we may say 
generally misunderstood. Unfortu- 
nately the public knew him only as 
the Banker, close, methodical, exact 
and aggressive — and not at all as the 
man, genial, social and full of deep 
and abiding interest in the welfare 
of his fellows. If any of our readers 
assert that these apparently contra- 
dictory qualities could not co-exist in 
the same character, we venture to dis- 
agree with them. There are some 
who believe, and some who profess to 
know, that while posing before the 
world as a man of little sympathy 
with human suffering and uninterest- 
ed in the moral concerns of men, he 
was yet a man of deepest human feel- 
ings and had the profoundest interest 
in all that concerns our common hu- 
manity. They even say that his pri- 
vate charities were large and con- 
stantly increasing. Possibly — who 

knows? — there was a secret in Mark 
Ashton’s life, the discovery of which 
might explain many problems and 
enigmas in his character and conduct, 
aye, even the motive of the dire as- 
sassination itself, if we but knew it. 
Possibly, too, the secret may become 
known to us. And it is also possible 
it will go with him into the vast un- 
known and remain forever hid from 
human view. 

“Our readers will expect some ac- 
count of the family and the inmates 


dated January 1 
William Sherlo 
bach, dated Aug 
Wing R. Sm 
Perry, &c., datf 
Edward A. B’ 
nan, &c,. dated 
P. Rosman 
dated Feb. 11. 

Sarah B. Me 
&c., dated Jan. 


ONTA 


Reynolds, Sarah 
Edith L. Ham 
in Manchester 
HcClurg, Belle, to 
ley and Fran 
property in Brii 
Hammond, Edith ’ 
C. Palmer, pro 
ches 


Chatte' 

HcClurg, Belle, t 
ley and Prank 
perty in Cana’ 


ORI 


Foster, Philai 
Foster, pro] 


E G. Cook & I 
Eddy, propert 
Smith, Anna E., 
Com. of Box^, 
property in M 
Smythe, Walter 
George W. Cr' 


WA^ 


Cretelll, Anto 
Felice Crei 
Newark . . . 

Sherman, Ma\ 
Trowbridge, 
Schimpf, prope. 

Williams, Rose, 
rone, and wife, 
Newark 


W 

Bauer, Victor, a 
R. Corwin, j 

ark 

Schimpf, Henr 
C. Delano, pr» 


19 


Dyed by corpor- 
Dity as Wheeler 
d the province 
,se to find that 
. employe are to 
fit of the defend- 
n of its interests 
nee in such a case 
e servant’s act is 
the same way and 
Dies as if he was 
all.” 

the defendant 
'voked by the 
3 fore the de- 
ven if the offi- 
the scope of his 
endant’s servant, 
're record. Upon 
the complaint 
d to the most 
be drawn from 
jurt clearly erred 
om the jury. Nor 
rtiff to the threat 
ead and do it,” 
justification as 
e assault which 
nd cases cited; 
ndalia & Terre 
111. 395. If 
lether, under 
:ended to tax 
.nguage should 
d the clear im- 
3d in order to 
subject of tax. 
(2d Ed.) 267. 
'n the record 
\hat was used 
Illinois follows 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

of the home and will doubtless de- 
sire to learn something of the clerk 
and caretaker of the bank, as every 
morsel of information will be greed- 
ily devoured at the present time, not 
only by the general public, but es- 
pecially by the many who are setting 
their ingenuity to work to discover, 
if possible, some plausible theory to 
explain the murder and find the crim- 
inal. We shall endeavor to satisfy 
this reasonable demand. 

“The Ashton family at present con- 
sists of two daughters. Miss Helena, 
an adopted daughter of his cousin St. 
Clare, a young lady of very rare 
beauty and of still rarer accomplish- 
ments, who for some years enjoyed the 
best advantages New York and Paris 
select schools; and Miss Lucille, the 
Banker’s own daughter. Miss Helena 
has brilliant conversational powers 
and her ability as a musician is very 
widely recognized. In society she is 
the acknowledged leader of a very 
exclusive set and is very popular, we 
are told, in some of the best circles 
of New York city, where she spends 
a part of every season. In addition 
to her own personal gifts and graces, 
Miss Helena is recognized as the heir- 
ess of the Banker. No secret has been 
made of this fact by the family and 
it has been, since their coming to the 
city, another circumstance among 
many that has excited more than or- 
dinary interest on the part of the pub- 
lic and set the gossips to wondering 
why an adopted daughter should be- 
come ‘the heiress’ to the exclusion of 
the Banker’s own child. There seems 
to be no doubt of the fact, however, 
whatever may be the motive, and the 
arrangement seems to meet the 
hearty approval of all the family, as 
between the young ladies themselves 
there has always existed the fondest 
and most devoted affection. And 
surely an arrangement that suits all 


I York at the tim^ 
I cedent’s death 
I tax. This dec 
I the Court of Ai 
I 68 N. E. 1117. 

I ing been rende 
I heritance tax It 
construing was • 
presumed that 
construction 
as made b 
the time c 
ute. 2 I 
Const. (2d . 

‘‘The deci 
Court of Appe 
N. Y. 1, 44 N. 1 
55 Am. St. Rep. 
150 N. Y., 37, 4 
A. 235, 55 Am. 
construction not 
what property ■ 
ents found with 
ed to be taxed 
decisions cons 
vious to the a 
from the wore 
is a basis fo 
counsel for thv 
of foreign corpv 
this state, even 
safe-keeping, si 
reaching a concl 
however, it is 
mind the fami 
all forms of ts 
special taxes, 
bound to expres 
clear and un: 
Eidman v. Mai 
583, 184 U. S. 


20 


is. Nor could it 
itances avoid lia- 
I that Kellerman’s 
I 'he scope of his 

I 

common car- 
its passengers 
d treat them 
i IS and bonds 
sit box of de- 
bank in New 
t ee with the 

m 1 of our 
jbstantially 
s. statute of 
meaning and 
Re Morgan, 
.ered after the 
nd construed the 
87, after it had 
No presump- 
ntention con- 
of our stat- 
> later decis- 
• special stat- 
ase, they are 
xn be entitled 
n may be due 
■\erein. The 
last resort 
' attention, 
A was certain 
rts of this state 
tions, the per- 
>sident dece- 
92 N. B. 313, 
le good of the 
We work it to 
1 liave got to get 
1 get this Board 
money we have 
ii members where 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

the members of a family in a purely 
family matter should please the pub- 
lic at large. 

“Miss Lucille, the Banker’s own 
daughter, while of a more domestic 
type, is also a beautiful and inter- 
esting young woman, hut, like her 
father, she cares little for gay society 
and prefers her book, her easel and 
her piano to the whirl and pleasure 
of fashionable life. She is a great ad- 
mirer of her adopted sister and 
heartily supports her in her brilliant 
musical and social engagements. But 
it is as her father’s companion ana 
counsellor that Miss Lucille has best 
fulfilled her mission. Since the death 
of his wife in New York, when Miss 
Lucille was but a year old, the Bank- 
er has found his chief earthly solace 
in the love and devotion of this noble 
girl. Simple and unaffected in man- 
ner, affectionate in dispositioh, self- 
sacrificing by nature, she has found 
her chief happiness in entering into 
the plans and purposes of her father, 
and probably knows more of his mo- 
tives and aims than all others. She 
invariably speaks of her father, it is 
said, with the deepest reverence and 
affection, and wonders that the people 
do not understand and appreciate him 
more. Of her mother little can be 
learned except that Mr. Ashton idol- 
ized her and cannot he induced, even 
at this late day, to speak of her, and 
has never shown the slightest dispo- 
sition to attempt to fill her place. 
Prom Mr. Eben Williams, who resides 
at ‘'The Willows’ and has for some 
years looked after the Banker’s farms 
in this section, we learn that Mrs. Ash- 
ton was a woman of beauty and tal- 
ent and that Miss Lucille closely re- 
sembles her in appearance and dispo- 
sition. 

“The domestics in the family are 
four in number: Mrs. Holland, the 
housekeeper; Mrs. Price, the cook; 


In Popple V 
the Supreme C 
the decisions of 
in holding that, 
Ct. (46 L. Ed. 
Kennedy v. St. 
Haute Railroa 
there he doubt 
the language, ii 
certain property, 
not be extended 
sonal property oJ 
stocks of foreign 
port of the wo 
make the prop* 
Cooley on Tas 
There is no e 
showing that 

Property o 
licemen are o 
Subject to Ini 
ations in the 

“We ar^* 

New YorJ 
inheritan 
copied frc 
1887) is im 
Whiting, sup. 
supra, were 
adoption of r 
New York 
been amer 
tion as 
cerning 
ute can 
ions. Hi. 
utes and . 
only perst 
to no great 
to the reas 
decisions o 
in New Yc 


21 


on the ques- 
• are the only 
that the Ro- 
^es already given 
pra. From the 
N. Y. 141), 
Y. 77), In 
jne, supra. In 
ar law was 
onstrue the 
)n, and while 
tirely in har- 
the state, is 
® the stocks 
investment, 
d appellant 
ind bonds 
safe-keep- 

.'d we are 
ght of the 
iat the trial' 
atute of 1895 
hat the stocks 
ic corporations 
deposit box, the 
the tangible per- 
ng to the club. 

3 state were sub- 
at the stocks and 
rations found in 
were not sub- 
for the state 
this be the 
act, the trial 
ag that the 
company or- 
>f Illinois and 
.irtly in both 
rty, within the 
■*. subject to the 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Mary and Lizzie Goodwin, sisters, the 
two maids. The housekeeper and the 
cook have been with the family nearly 
three years; the maids were engagea 
last May and came from Swain’s Cor- 
ners, sixteen miles east of this city. 
There has been no male servant re- 
siding with the family, the caretaker 
of the bank serving the household 
when required in that capacity. 

“Of those in the Bank but two per- 
sons merit a mention. The first of 
these in order and position is Mr. 
Lewis Parish, who has been for over 
ten years in Mr. Ashton’s service. He 
is a man of foreign birth, the first 
clerk and Banker’s confidential man, 
and enjoys the reputation of being one 
of the most expert manipulators of 
stocks operating in New York City. 

He came to W e with Mr. Ashton 

from Europe and enjoyed the un- 
limited confidence of the Banker, and 
may be considered almost a member 
of the firm rather than an employee. 
It seems that a very dear friend of 
Mr. Ashton’s was applied to for in- 
formation as to where the Banker 
could secure a man of undoubted 
probity, beyond the power of tempta- 
tion, a man of energy and financial 
ability. Two months later Mr. Parish 
called upon the Banker with a letter 
of introduction from this friend con- 
taining most fiattering testimonials. 
He was at once accepted and has 
been ever since in steady employ- 
ment. He has managed many of the 
most important and delicate of Mr. 
Ashton’s business negotiations and 
conducted most of the stock jobbing 
operations and with singular success 
and fidelity. Mr. Ashton has often 
been heard to speak of his rare abil- 
ity and of the great confidence he 
reposed in Mr. Parish. He is known 
to have had a personal interest in 
many of the transactions he carried 
out altogether apart from his liberal 


ones es 
maine ■ 
herein, 
statement? * 
and In re 
re Merrii. 
re SwL 
adopted, ; 
statute o 
which ha-f 
tions he 
these twc 
mony on . 
cedent was 
The county < 
disposed tc 
court cons 
ing. 


“On the 
New York 
were only 1 
concedes, V 
correctly in 
and bonds o 
found in the 
cash on depi 
sonal proper 
ject to the ta: 
bonds of forei, 
said safety df 
ject to the tr 
seem to co’ 
proper con? 
court was 
bonds of 
ganized un< 
Iowa, and 
statees, wei 
meaning of 
involved as to 


22 


to John 

I jdaga . . 1000 00 
X wife, to 
1 Bank, lot 
Mien St. . . 1200 00 
'I to Levi S 
195, 40 ft. 

I'tgs. $3200- 

! 1000 00 

I *’e, to Levi 
blk “A” 

! $1500) 1400 00 

I » Harris 

?ht St. 74 00 

,1 ’ornelia 

r Hubbell 

i-ve., lot 
i , 40 ft. 

.■ 850 00 

Syracuse 
blk. 379, 

ace 4200 00 


trtgrages. 

&c. to Otis 
., 509 Otis- 

$ 29 00 

&c., to 
&c., 104 

18 00 


(. . .$524,955 18 
. . . 128,593 16 
ng-e 

1,053 25 

iidera- 

31 00 

sidera- 

735 00 

26,300 00 

ss: 

prop- 

45,014 00 

4,500 00 

225 10 

19 87 


inership. 

'hip Co. — Dis- 
succeeded by 


rer. 

into Hazard 
, Ernest C. 
o. R. Coates, 
3. Crittenden. 


to Harry Hall, 
i eight years at 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

salary. The Banker regarded him as 
a tower of strength in his business. 
Standing so near to the Banker as he 
did, it is no wonder Mr. Parish was 
overwhelmed by the tragedy and is 
scarcely able to leave his rooms. 

“The next official, the second clerk, 
is a much younger man and has only 
been in the Banker’s employment not 
quite five months. He is tall, well built, 
of prepossessing appearance, and, 
judging by his head and face, a man 
of artistic temperament, of refineyd 
taste more suited to the position of 
teacher, artist or clergyman than the 
sordid business of counting cash and 
computing interest. He has been as- 
sistant to Mr. Parish for the past five 
months and his services have been 
very satisfactory to both the head 
clerk and Mr. Ashton — so much so 
that earnest efforts have been put 
forth to induce him to enter upon 
banking as a profession, but, we un- 
derstand, without success. Mr. Her- 
man Molson, for that is the young 
man’s name, is a very cultured ana 
talented musician, having spent the 
last five years at Leipsic Conserva- 
tory and graduated there in violin 
studies and practice. He is very much 
devoted to his profession and has re- 
sisted most tempting offers from the 
Banker to abandon it. He is well and 
favorably known to the musical cir- 
cles of our city and his public ap- 
pearances invariably attract a large 
number of music lovers to his con- 
certs and the musicales where he is 
accustomed to appear. For one so 
young, he is considered by musical 
critics a remarkable performer, re- 
minding his auditors of the weird 
power of Remenyi and the captivating 
strains of Ole Bull. Mr. Molson, li 
has been quaintly said, plays perfectly 
on two instruments at the same time 
— his violin and the heart of his 
hearer. It seems generally granted 


Smith, Rose El 
C. Hoyt, lot 1. 
Lansing, Hiram . 
Syracuse Savi 
192, 38 ft. on w 
Saphore, E. Wan 
Chapman, lots J 
e. s. Allen St 

$1500) 

Lydon, John J., ? 
S. Chapman, 
Burnett Part 
Warner, Jeren 
Rosman, 38 1 
DeRemer, Ida 
Clark, lot 1' 
Tr., 40 ft on 
20 blk. 8, Prv 
on Hall Ave. . 
Carroll, Mary C 
Savings Bank, 
50 ft. on Colle.? 


Chaty 

Clarke, Ramom 
W, Kenyon, 7 
CO St. . . . 
Chappel, Euf 
O tis W Ker 
Herkimer . . 


Clearing H( 
Clearing H» 
Rochester 
sales. . . . 
Transfers o 
Deeds, no. 

tion (31' 
Deeds, 
tion (2 
Building pe 
Eidences of 
Mortgages 
erty (19) 
Chattel moi 
Judgments. . 
Mechanic’s li 


Dlssolu^ 

American 
solved partn 
Philo K. Tt 


Cei 

Hazard Ei 
Motor Mfg. 
Hazard, Geo. 
John F. Aide. 


James A. W* 
199 East Main S. 
$6,000 to $7,500 ^ 


$1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

55 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

1 00 

A-00 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


by the musicians of our city that he 
possesses, in a peculiar degree, the 
power of reaching and stirring the 
emotional nature of his hearers. He 
has been much lionized in our best 
circles since coming here, but does 
not appear to be fond of society. 
Though as a performer he seems bold 
and undaunted, at all other times he 
appears rather ill at ease in the so- 
cial cirle and so extremely diffident 
and sensitive that he usually seeks 
an excuse for early leave-taking. His 
greatest fault in the opinion of social 
leaders is this aversion to society and 
his apparent indifference to the fair 
sex. 

“Michael Hallaran, the caretaker, 
is, as his name implies, an Irishman. 
He came to this country in the service 
of Lewis Parish and was engaged as 
caretaker at the opening of the Bank, 
in which position he has steadily re- 
mained, giving complete satisfaction 
to all. Mr. Hallaran attends to light- 
ing, heating, and general oversight of 
the bank, and is more or less con- 
stant in attendance during business 
hours from 10 A. M. to 4 P. M. In 
the evenings and cold weather he 
usually visits the Bank about 7 
o’clock to inspect the premises and 
see that the Banker’s private office is 
comfortable for the evening. It was 
the Banker’s custom to spend three 
or four evenings a week in his own 
private office from 8 to 9, or even 
as late as 10 o’clock. Mr. Hallaran 
also regularly visited the bank at 
10 P. M. to again inspect the prem- 
ises and see that lights were out and 
fires in good condition. As he lives in 
Seneca Flats, just opposite the bank, 
and can be summoned at all times by 
an electric bell, he may he said to be 
constantly in attendance. He is a de- 
vout Christian, very regular in at- 
tendance upon Father O’Mahoney’s 
services and has never been accused 


Wm. J. Mattb 
Elmer W. r 
Batz, NichoL' 

M. Rownf 
Subd,, w. 
Bauman, Jot 
Michael N. 
ney Tract, 
Bishop, Jane, 
Donnell, pai 
Murray Trac 
Case, Jason D., 

A. Chandler, 
of Brockpor 
Cram, Henry 
Brown, lot 
race, e. s. 
Davis, Lilli 
Bldg. Co 
Klinck E 

Rd 

Deuress, Car. 
Bros. Grain 
subd., w. s. 
Ellwanger & 
to Sarah 
Iwanger a* 
Crowford 
First Chun 
ester Coi 
lot 75 100 
Fitzhugh . 
Goodelle, Geo. 
mer J. 
Fairport . . . 
Hannah, Joh 
as execut 
Hannah, i 
field, prope 
Insel, August 
John G. Popi 
South Brooks 
roe Ave . . . 
Johnston, Henr. 
to Chas. Dec! 
in Brockport 
Koopmans, Frj 
to Walter Uj 
10 Frost Si 
Ave. . . . 
Langbein, Chi 
to Jacob Bosi 
erty in Gates 
Mahon, Minnie j. 
Stoller, lot 7 K( 
s. Monroe Ave 
McDonnell, John 
to Jane Bish' 
6 and 7 Murr 
Child St. . . 
Myers, Hattie 
Richardson, 

Pk Tract, e. 
Nash, Helen > 
McBride, an 

Rochester 


24 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


II Park 


1 jrrace . . 

1 

00 

to Barn- 
[ Buchan 

1 

00 

1 d wife, 

i wife. 

1 

00 

^v^ife, to 
Weddall 
it 

1 

00 

li wife, to 
fe, lot 19 
Henry St. 

1 

00 

1 wife, to 
wife, pro- 

1 

nn 


to Edward , 
7 Roches- 


Tract, n. 

1 

00 

to J. bon- 
perty in 

1 

00 

•). Poriga, 
n Greece 

600 

00 

ad wife, 
-t of lot 



T Loan 



3 . An- 

1 

00 

Pierce 



ogswell 
: Road 

1 

oO 

Lorenzo 


i Perin- 

1 

00 

d wife 



prop- 

1 

00 

Michael 



jseph St. 
act, n. s. 

1 

00 


1am Mac- 
'kl subd., 



1 

00 

£m 



to Chas, 



St 1 

51300 

00 

, to Chris- 



^ in Greece 

300 

00 


of any dishonesty or crime. These are 
all the parties who would have access 
to the bank in the evening and most 
of these only from Ashton Hall, for, 
as many of our readers know, the two 
buildings are now united and it seems 
difficult, if not impossible, to harbor 
a thought of suspicion towards any 
one of this number. 

“We have gone somewhat at length 
into a description — so far as the facts 
at hand permitted — of the various 
persons familiar to the premises that 
the full purport of the problem. Who 
murdered Mark Ashton? may be per- 
ceived by our readers. The chief dif- 
ficulty seems to lie in the fact that 
none of the inmates of the bank or 
Hall could have committed the crime 
or can even be thrown under sus- 
picion. Yet the equally apparent fact 
must be admitted that Mark Ashton’s 
murderer knew the ‘ins and outs’ of 
the Bank and Hall and where to ob- 
tain the loaded revolver and the op- 
portune moment in which to fire the 
bullet, when all parties were so dis- 
posed that no one even heard the re- 
port. Probably at no other hour dur- 
ing the year were the members of the 
family and household so scattered as 
at the fatal hour of the murder. This 
fact — unless one can imagine some 
vagabond highwayman stumbled up- 
on the right hour, and the right way 
into the bank, and the right place to 
find the weapon — points to the pres- 
ence in our midst of some artist in 
crime.'' 


Tract, s. s. S 
Neun, Geo,, and 
net Rothstein, 
Tract, w. s. Jos 
Ridgeway, Samu- 
to Chas. Scb 
property in ' 
Riley, Edward 
John Hofher 
Tract, n. s. 
Rogovich, Li 
S imon Blui 
Mumford si 
Schooley, Ed 
Wm. C. Bai 
perty in Ir( 
Shaw, Alida 
Swartzenbei 
ter Driving 
s. Driving Pk. 
Shoecraft, Clinton 
old Schoecraft, 

Webster 

Thiem, Christina, t 
and wiwfe, pro’ 
Thurston, Burto’ 
to Mattie E. V 
144 West Av 
Association 
thony St. . 
VanCurran-Be 
J. Cogswel 
subd,, w. s 
Woolsey, Par. 

J. Woolsey, p 

ton 

Woolsey, Lorenzc 
to Martha P. 
ertv in Perint 
Wright, Henry 
Miller, lot 40 
Lot Associat 
Wilson Ave. 
Zelinski, Stephf 
iejewski, lot 
s. s. Ave. D 


Comstock, Lewis 
Hollway, n, s. 
Fariga, eGo., and 
tina Thiem, prc 
Grossman, Aaror. 


From the W e Daily Courier of January 2, 19 — , 

we extract the following: 


■d wife, to 
'I s. Joseph 
2650 00 


to Roches- 
. s Ave. D. 2000 00 
id wife, to 
Bank, pro- 


1000 00 


“Contrary to the opinion of all the 
medical men, Mark Ashton still sur- 
vives. There are no signs of return- 
ing consciousness. Dr. Agnew of the 
Howard Hospital and several local 
physicians have been In constant at- 


Geo. S. Turnbi’ 

Ave 

Maciejewski, A« 
ter Savings P 
Madison, Ro’ 
Rocheste’ 
perty in 
Malley, M 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 



2500 

wife, to 


?. Wilson 

900 

irrie A 


7000 

to Au- 
lonroe 

2489 

'fe to 


Dep. 


St 

3000 

. Music 
Christ, 


'itzhugh 

7500 

/ of Music 
jc Safe Dep. 
South Fitz- 

5000 

ad wife to 
7 w. s. Jo- 

2000 

wife to 
'av. Bank, 


''y Park. . 

2000 


three 


'.vin E. 

Mk. 6, 

I 200 

verett 
Ave. 1 
ife, to 
e, lot 
ark Ex. 


Ward, 
Dds on 


,/Ife to 
337, Pal- 

.d wife to 
>ts 610-513 
Hazelhucrst 


. to George 
, blk. 227, 


\d wife, to 
ore. Farm 
e s. Al- 
n500) .. 1 

wife, to 
asband, 

'rts & 

1 

:C, to 
>, blk. 


ife, to 
j, 78 ft. 


wife, to 
'Ik 72, 45 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 


00 


00 

00 

00 


00 

00 


00 

00 

00 


00 

00 


00 


00 

00 

00 


tendance upon him since the fatal 
night when he was discovered uncon- 
scious and fatally wounded in his of- 
fice chair. Dr. Bronson, the celebrat- 
ed specialist in wounds of the brain, 
has been summoned from New York. 
Occasionally Mr. Ashton appears to 
suffer and moans piteously, but the 
physicians assert he has no conscious 
suffering. For the most part he lies 
still and listless and appears to he 
gradually sinking. Miss Helena Ash- 
ton is, we learn, completely prostrat- 
ed and threatened with brain fever. 
Miss Lucille, though she appears to 
have passed through a serious illness 
in the last few days, is in constant 
attendance upon her sister. She is 
by physician’s orders practically ex- 
cluded from the library, where her 
father is passing the few remaining 
hours of his life. Meantime no clew 
— not even the slightest — seems to 
have fallen into the hands of the po- 
lice or the detectives. Suspicion 
points to no one, and if our detectives 
have formed the slightest opinion re- 
garding the murderer, they are tak- 
ing the greatest precautions to keep 
it from the public. 

“Rumor has it that Mr. Molson, the 
junior clerk, is seriously ill with ner- 
vous prostration and is threatened 
with an attack of fever. He is at 
‘The Willows,’ the residence of John 
Eben Williams, in whose family he 
was reared and where he has lived 
up to a few months ago when he came 

to W e, save the last five years 

spent in Leipsic. The shock of this 
crime seems to have prostrasted near- 
ly every one connected with the Bank 
and family. Mr. Parish, we learn. Is 
also much overcome, yet he met a 
few people today on urgent business. 
The bank, of course, is closed. 

“The police are proceeding, we 
learn, on the theory that some man 
from a distance gained access to the 


St. . 

Miller, Mie 
Henry C. ^ 

Ave. . . . 
Newman Bros. 

Deuress, w. 
Popp, John G., 
gust F. Inst 
AV6* • • • • • 

Ringle, Wm. R.. 
Rochester Trusi 
Co., property s. 
Rochester Conserv 
to First Churcl 
property w. s. £ 

St 

Rochester Con? 
to Rochester 
Co., property 
hugh St. . . 
Rothstein, Ba. 

Geo. Neun, j 

seph Ae 

Sallenson, Sam, 
Monroe Coun 
property s. s. S\ 

Continued 

United Home 
Barnes, lot; 
SouthPark, 

Quick, Geo. B 
Quick, 6 ft 
Chapman, Lev 
John J. Lydc 
19, blk. “A,” j. 
(Mort. $1600.00 
Roche, Percy E., t 
lots 3 and 4 blk. 

Green St. (Mtg. 
Davis, Geo. C., 
Fred Kai, lot ? 
mer Tr (Mtg 
Wilbur, Jacob 
Muolo Gra 
James St. 

Ave., Dewi» 
Garlock, Geo. 

B. Garlock, 
Subd. 11 . 

Chapman, L' 
Edwin W 
lots 194 i 
len St. (A. 

Storm, Wan 
Chester A. . 
lot 75 Onon, 
Gordon Aves. 
Smith, Wing R., 
Stanley Prybylsl 
111 Sackett Tr. 
Broga, Geo F., 
W. J. Burns Co., 
on e. s. Cannon f 
Johnson, Otto, 
Frances B. Bro' 


26 


e of hundred — 
fit. our members 
veir money, over 
•. use the ferry 
it, and argued 
y good chance 
advantages of 
aembers would 
uber, or a non- 
could not see 
use to warrant 
, and that the 
ition ought to 
lO might use the 
T to Van, to them 
Teed that if that 
•y glad they did 
uch to blame as 
mglit the Club 
I Club I backed 
and several of 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Banker’s residence on the day of the 
murder and committed the crime for 
revenge. Although Mr. Ashton is not 
known to have had any bitter ene- 
mies, it seems only reasonable to sup- 
pose that in his long and successful 
career in different lands, he may havo 
encountered the enmity and hatred of 
some defeated competitor for the gol- 
den fruit he was ever plucking from 
the tree of opportunity. He may thus 
have fallen a victim to his own suc- 
cesses. A careful search of the city 
is being made and of all hotel ar- 
rivals for some time before and after 
the murder to discover some clew. 
This line of investigation may be 
worth consideration, but for ourselves 
we are satisfied — harsh as the judg- 
ment may seem under the circum- 
stances — that some one well-acquaint- 
ed with the house and bank either 
committed the crime or was a party 
thereto. We only hope that thorough 
investigation may prove us wrong in 
this respect.” 


Van Tuyle, for 
at 3.9 miles, * 
and turn rigJ 
right at 7.6 
Butler 9.9 n 
South Butlei 
graph poles i 
and follow 
miles from C 
top of hill; a 
follow signs 
The Scott; 
faced shortl; 

A macada 
ville and M 
week or so. 
With Mumfort 
a fine route tc 
Going to G 
left to end of 
turn right 


27 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


INCIDENTS OF THE NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY. 

John Gibson Hume. 

I shall now give in order the incidents of the night of 
the assassination as I collected them on the spot or got 
them fresh from the lips of witnesses. 

On New Year’s eve, i8 — , as Michael Hallaran, the 
caretaker, entered the building of the Mark Ashton Bank- 
ing Co., a few minutes past ten o’clock, he was surprised 
to find that the Banker had not yet left his private office — 
he seldom remained ’till ten o’clock — and very rarely 
later than that hour. Of late he had been accustomed to 
leave at nine or half-past nine. He entered by the main 
door on Broad St. and proceeded at once in his inspection 
of the main office, noted that everything was in its place, 
and the door opening into the back hall securely locked. 
The door opening into Mark Ashton’s private office he 
also found secure. 

As he concluded some business of unusual importance 
was detaining the Banker, the main office being warm and 
comfortable, he stood leaning against the bank counter 
for some minutes, waiting each moment for the Banker’s 
cheerful voice apprising him of his readiness to leave the 
office, when he heard a faint movement as of a chair or 
table, and then thought he heard a low moan. A moment 
later he was sure of it and called to Mr. Ashton, but 
got no reply. 

The Banker’s private office is the middle of three 
private rooms, separated from each other and from the 
main office by wooden partitions surmounted by wire 
guards. Over these high partitions the caretaker could 
see the light shining from the Banker’s office and conver- 
sation was readily had between the different rooms even 
when the doors were locked and bolted. 

Suspicious now that something had happened to the 
Banker, Mr. Hallaran seized his small lantern which he 
always carried, went out quickly and locking the front 


28 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


door, and unlocking the door of Ashton Hall leading into 
the hallway separating the two buildings, he entered the 
hall, opened the door looking down into the Banker’s 
office — there is a descent of three steps — and saw what 
horrified him, almost freezing the blood in his veins — 
Mark Ashton sitting in his chair, his head fallen over on 
his left arm, his coat and shirt front covered with blood, 
evidently in a dying condition, his face ghastly pale save 
where disfigured with blood, and a bullet wound in the 
right side of his head! 

Mr. Hallaran had never witnessed such a sight before, 
and though of an unexcitable temper and generally a 
brave and self-possessed man, stood horror-stricken, his 
limbs trembling beneath him, till a second groan from the 
Banker’s lips recalled him to duty. Then rushing out of 
the door, he called a policeman a few rods away, crying, 
“For God’s sake, get a doctor quick — Mark Ashton is 
shot in his office and dying!” Then rushing up to his 
rooms he apprized his wife. Five minutes later there 
were twenty people in the hallway, but no one had 
entered the room but Dr. Galloway, who had been called 
in from his office in an adjoining block. Michael Flal- 
laran soon entered with policemen Patrick Donovan 
and Stephen Conrad, who took charge of the people 
gathered in the hall. The District Attorney was notified 
and a messenger sent to summon the Chief of the Detec- 
tive Department, Captain Slane. The Doctor asked if the 
family had been apprized of the murder and on learning 
that no one had notified them of the tragedy, asked Mr. 
Herbert Williams, a rising young barrister of the city, 
and a friend of the family, to see that the news was 
broken to them as gently as possible. 

Accordingly summoning by bell the hall maid, Mr. 
Williams found on inquiry that Miss Ashton was in her 
room. Miss Lucille at an entertainment, and on learning 
there was no one present who could more fittingly broach 
the subject, he summoned courage to send the servant for 
Miss Ashton. The girl returned saying Miss Ashton 
was too ill to come down, being very much agitated and 
suffering from nervous headache. 

“Tell her, I must see her. Mr. Ashton is seriously 


29 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

hurt,” said Mr. Williams. The servant, Mary Goodwin, 
impressed by the commotion in the hall and by Mr. Wil- 
liams’ pallid face and agitated manner, that something 
serious had happened, began to cry and wring her hands 
and went sobbing up to Miss Ashton’s room. 

A moment later. Miss Ashton, wearing a light kimono, 
her large eyes gleaming bright, her face pallid with fear, 
her jet black tresses unconfined, stole like a ghost down 
the stairs, seized Mr. Williams’ arm and gasped out, 
“Papa Ashton hurt? When? How? For God’s sake, 
speak to me!” 

“Summon all your courage. Miss Ashton,” said Mr. 
Williams. “Your father is severely hurt — we don’t 
know — how.” 

She was standing in the hall near the staircase rail- 
ing and swaying like a tree ready to fall. She seemed 
unable to frame another word, but looked at him with 
such a helpless, pitiful look that he felt he must go on. 
“He was shot in his office, but still lives.” 

“Shot!” she cried out, with a whole world of agony 
in that one word, “shot,” and was sinking to the floor 
when he caught her and with the aid of the servant 
placed her on a settee. The girl was then dispatched for 
Mrs. Ashcroft and daughters, near neighbors. She came 
back announcing they would soon be over. Meantime 
Miss Ashton had recovered consciousness, but remained 
deeply agitated. She insisted on going at once to the 
office, but had to be forcibly restrained. 

On the arrival of Mrs. Ashcroft and daughter, Mr. 
Williams started out to find Miss Lucille and on walking 
toward the Hall was fortunate enough to meet her and 
her friend, Miss Helen Gibson, chatting gaily as they 
walked briskly up the sidewalk. He bowed and said : 

“I came to meet you. Your father ” and here 

his words seemed to leave him, but his agitated manner 
and faltering speech had already told her some great 
calamity had come into her life. 

She stopped suddenly and turned towards him, her 
inquiring face asking, “Is my father ill ?” and, seeing the 
deepening pallor on the young man’s face, she asked, “Is 
he dead?” 


30 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Thank God, no. But he is wounded — badly, I 
fear.’^ 

She gave a little cry of horror, and stood a moment, 
then would have started onward alone, but they restrained 
her on either side, and entered the front door directly to 
the Library rather than the hall door, the usual entrance. 

Soon friends surrounded them and gave them what 
consolation they could, but restrained all their efforts to 
approach the suffering Banker. 

Meantime Captain Sloane had arrived and after a 
few minutes inspection of the office and a few inquiries, 
marked the position of the Banker’s chair upon the hard- 
wood floor, and gave permission to the doctors to remove 
the Banker to the Library. He then securely locked the 
entrances after taking note of all who had entered the 
office since the murder, and putting the keys in his pocket 
summoned two policemen in attendance and soon had the 
hallway cleared and a few minutes later a policeman 
guarded each entrance to the house and bank. He then 
walked hastily away. 

Half an hour later Captain Sloane returned and with 
him came Thomas Jaffery, who is not now a member of 
the regular force, but a man whose aid is much sought 
after in difficult and mysterious cases. He has been living 

in W e for over a dozen years, but makes occasional 

visits to New York, Chicago and other cities, rumor says 
to give advice or assistance in the detection and convic- 
tion of noted criminals or in peculiarly complicated cases 
of crime. In all the time he has been living here he has 
never assisted the regular police or detectives of the city 
but once before. This was in the case of the murder of 
Bessie Gilman, the talented and beautiful daughter of 
Widow Gilman, who was found murdered in a little grove 
on the outskirts of the city. The police had worked 
upon the case incessantly for three months and every clue 
proved futile until one night Captain Sloane called upon 
Mr. Jaffery and begged him, in the interests of humanity, 
to come to his aid. 

Mr. Jaffery, who is very sparing of his words, said, 
“I will sleep over it. Call at nine in the morning.” The 
next day he began the case and one week later had a 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

young man, who had hitherto enjoyed a most excellent 
reputation, in custody, and extracted a confession from- 
him. 

This Thomas Jaffery is a most singular man, and has 
had a very wonderful career. An Englishman by birth, 
a school teacher for years, a clergyman by profession in 
the Methodist body for ten or twelve years, and latterly 
a detective on his own account, a man so well and widely 
known as to be sought after in many of the chief cities 
of the United States, as the solver of intricate criminal 
problems, and a special adviser to the profession gener- 
ally. He is described as a man of wide reading, very 
eloquent afs a speaker, but holding very strange views on 
many subjects and exceedingly peculiar also in much of 
his conduct. 

Many surprising tales are told of him as teacher, 
clergyman, and later as detective and adviser of detec- 
tives, in the ferreting out of crime and criminals. Some 
of his most wonderful exploits took place, according to 
report, in Liverpool, England. He had, it is said, the 
gift of prophecy, but his special gift and crowning 
achievement was in his ability to “dream true,” an ability 
he was able to utilize in criminal cases. There are almost 
enough veridical dreams attributed to him to fill a small 
volume. One of the best supported, because given the 
writer by a clergyman who knew him in England and 
who got the story from a police officer concerned in the 
case, relates how he was summoned to aid the police in 
Liverpool in finding a criminal whose whereabouts were 
most cleverly concealed. It is said that this occurred 
while he was in ministerial work. Mr. Jaffery refused 
his aid at first, but on becoming persuaded that the ends 
of justice would be defeated and the innocent might suf- 
fer, unless the criminal was brought to justice, and also 
being pledged a liberal compensation, agreed to render 
whatever assistance was in his power. He, after due 
preparations, went into a sleep that lasted nearly twenty 
hours and on resuming consciousness was able to give the 
city, street and number where the criminal lodged and 
where he was afterwards apprehended. He said that 
after studying the photograph of the criminal and deter- 




The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

mining to find him in his sleep, he passed into the trance 
condition and seemed to be in a large number of cities 
in succession, floating above the people in the street and 
in public assemblages, urged on and on by some irresisti- 
ble impulse, or as following some invisible, intangible 
trail, until in a certain street of a certain town he beheld 
the man whose face was photographed upon his memory 
by the picture of the criminal, and following him home, 
he secured his street and number and remembered both 
when awakened. 

Mr. Jaflfery is a man about five feet ten inches in 
in height, not over the average weight, well built, with 
strong and sinewy muscles, an easy noiseless step and a 
mellifluous voice, with flowing, unaccented style of 
speech. He has dark hair, an expressive face, high fore- 
head, is very full over the perceptive faculties, very wide 
over and between his temples, and has piercing dark eyes. 

When Captain Sloane came back to the Banker’s 
office accompanied by Thomas Jaffery, a look of pleasure 
and hope passed over the faces of Detectives Conrad and 
Philmore. Then the four of them passed quietly within 
the door, and, after a moment’s consultation, went direct 
to the scene of the tragedy. 

‘‘Now tell me all,” said Jaffery, and in detailed order 
Captain Sloane told the story as far as then known to the 
police — giving the statements of caretaker Hallaran, 
Patrick Donovan and Dr. Galloway, who were on hand 
before himself, occasionally appealing for information to 
his subordinates. 

“Have you found the revolver?” asked Mr. Jaffery. 

“No,” said Captain Sloane, “unfortunately we have 
not.” 

“Any clues?” asked Mr. Jaffery. 

“Yes and no,” said Captain Sloane. “We have certain 
indications that may or may not develop into clues. 
Mark Ashton’s left hand held at the time he was shot, a 
letter he had just written and half of it has been torn out 
of his grasp. Some one, the murderer or a confederate, 
wished to remove what might possibly be a clue to the 
detection of the crime. He probably found the hand 
closed so tightly as to be unable to get it without consider- 


33 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

able effort, or possibly was frightened by some approach- 
ing footsteps, or may have thought the half which was 
torn away sufficient to destroy the sense of the letter, 
which was only partly completed. 

“My own impression is this : Mark Ashton wrote a 
letter in part, got dissatisfied with it, or crumpled it in his 
hand preparatory to throwing it in the waste basket. Just 
then he heard a sound, the wicket door opened, and, as 
he looked up, the bullet struck his brain. In the fright 
occasioned by the sound, or shock of the discharge, his 
fingers convulsively closed on the letter (it required con- 
siderable force to extract the remnant from his grasp) 
and while he lost consciousness and the power to control 
his body, his unconscious mind, which operates in sleep 
and dreams and when consciousness has ceased and the 
power of movement is gone, retained the fixed suggestion 
given in that moment of shock or fright and refused to 
allow the muscles to relax and the fingers to give up the 
document. 

“Mark Ashton did not wish every one to read that 
letter. But I am philosophizing, in place of answering 
questions. 

“Then we have another, I don’t know what weight to 
attach to it. The conclusion seems to have overturned the 
little clock upon the desk and it has stopped at 8:40 
o’clock — probably the hour when the murder was com- 
mitted. See — when I set it up it starts again and when 
I turn it over it stops. In some way the clock was over- 
turned at 8 140. If not by the discharge, how was it done ?” 

Then in response to Mr. Jaffery’s suggestion, he and 
the Captain went into the Library and obtained consent 
of the doctors to see the wound. After they had looked 
upon the dying Banker, Mr. Jaffery took the physicians 
aside and questipned them closely on the effect of bullet 
wounds upon the skull and brain,making minute enquiries 
as to how the edges of the wound would be effected by 
the character of the ball, the angle of incidence, the range 
from which the shot was fired, etc., and particularly upon 
the possibility of discovering by probing the direction of 
the bullet in the brain and how far this was a true indi- 
cation of the point from which the bullet was fired. 


34 


The; Mystery of Ashton Hah 

Then they came back and secured a lamp and going 
to the door, from which, according to Captain Sloane, the 
shot had been fired, Mr. Jaffery opened it and listened 
attentively to discover whether or not it opened noiseless- 
ly. Stooping down he examined the hinges, but whether 
he found anything he expected to find, of was disap- 
pointed, one could not tell from his manner. He next 
proceeded to the wicket window and enquired if any one 
had inspected it as yet. It seemed not. He particularly 
wanted to know if it had been opened since the crime 
occurred. All present believed it had not. Then hvi 
examined the latch. It was not fully closed. But as he 
examined the hinges of this wicket window, I saw a sud- 
den gleam of pleased surprise. It was swift and transient 
as a flash of lightning, but it showed me that Jaffery had 
found a clue. Then various other doors were examined 
in turn and the party returned to the Banker’s office. 
Then Mr. Jaffery said to Captain Sloane: “You will, of 
course, make a thorough search of the papers, etc., in his 
desk, look up the part of the missing letter and the 
revolver, interrogate the party to whom the Banker was 
writing, go carefully into recent correspondence. All 
this is mere routine but very essential, for though the 
criminal can easily be found without these aids, we may 
need all possible help in bringing him to conviction. 

“I wish to study what I have learned to-night free 
from any distraction and will not even see the torn letter 
till to-morrow. By that time I trust you will have the 
missing part and the revolver. Put your best men on 
the trail, men who can draw an inference and observe as 
well as see.” 

“Then you have learned something to-night, Mr. Jaf- 
fery?” said Captain Sloane. “Would you mind telling us 
what you have discovered?” 

“The bullet was fired from the wicket window, not 
from the door,” said Mr. Jaffery. “Preparations were 
made some time in advance. We have here a crime 
exceedingly difficult to unravel chiefly because the motives 
are undecipherable at the present time and the proofs of 
guilt will be hard to establish.” 


35 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

The detectives passed the greater part of the night in 
the bank and in Ashton Hall. 

On parting from his comrades that night, Captain 
Sloane was asked by Detective Conrad if there was any 
question in his mind between murder and suicide. 

“Murder, only murder and a most brutal and coward- 
ly one,*’ replied the Captain. 

“Have you formed a suspicion of any one?” asked 
Conrad. 

“It is too early for that,” replied the Captain. “Out- 
ward circumstances point in a certain direction, but as 
many finer lines of indication point to a carefully pre- 
pared plot, it is possible we have an expert criminal to 
deal with and we must, therefore, avoid hasty conclusions 
from surface indications.” 


36 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE PRELIMINARY INVESTIGATION OF THE 
CRIME. 

John Gibson Hume. 

The investigation which Captain Sloane had an- 
nounced to take place on January ist did not come off 
till January 2nd at lo a. m., as certain researches were 
still to be made, and as several of the parties to be ques- 
tioned were too ill to attend. Mr. Ashton still survived, 
showing unwonted strength and endurance, with, how- 
ever, an ever increasing tendency toward collapse, as 
indicated by his fluctuating and enfeebled pulse. 

On the morning indicated it was decided also to 
change the place fixed upon for the meeting, as two of 
the principal witnesses. Miss Ashton and Mr. Herman 
Molson, showed in manner if not in speech a great 
nervous horror of meeting on the scene of the tragedy 
as at first suggested. 

The investigation was accordingly held in the Draw- 
ing Room of Ashton Hall, the precaution being taken 
of admitting all who came from the outside by the side 
door, on the opposite side from the bank. 

After a few apologetic words by District Attorney 
Cameron, Mr. Michael Hallaran, the caretaker of the 
bank, was called and told his story substantially as given 
in the papers. 

When asked where he last saw Mr. Ashton prior to 
the murder he answered : 

“About five o’clock that afternoon. He came through 
the hallway into the office and I met him as I was passing 
into the house with a note for Miss Lucille.” 

“Did he appear in his usual good health and spirits ?” 
asked the Attorney. 

“In his usual good health, sir, but not in his usual 
spirits. He seemed somewhat excited.” 

“In what way did this excitement show itself?” 
enquired Mr. Cameron. 


37 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“I noticed that his face seemed to have a kind of glow 
upon it — there was a light in his eye — and he stepped 
quicker and lighter than usual.’^ 

“Would you say that he was pleased or displeased?” 
asked the Attorney. 

“Well, sir, I would say that he was highly pleased. 
Mr. Ashton’s face always glowed when he was highly 
pleased about something.” 

Here Mr. Molson was seen to start as though an 
electric thrill had passed through his system. He turned 
pale, and every eye in the room was fixed upon him, 
so great was his agitation. Every face seemed to ask 
what hidden meaning there was in this fact for Mr. Mol- 
son. 

“You say,” continued Mr. Cameron, “that he came 
from his rooms into the hallway. Do you know with 
whom he had been conversing?” 

“I do not, sir.” 

“Did he address you, or any one else in your hear- 
ing?” 

“No, sir. But I heard him speak after he entered the 
office.” 

“To whom?” asked Mr. Cameron. 

“To himself, I think, sir, as he must have been alone 
at the time. He walked up and down his office several 
times and I heard him say, T’ll make the change now, the 
New Year shall see it, there’s been suffering enough.’ ” 

“Was that all?” 

“That was all I heard, sir.” 

“Where were you, Mr. Hallaran, from six o’clock 
that evening till the hour when you found Mark Ashton 
shot? Give a connected account of how you spent your 
time that evening up to the murder,” said the Attorney. 

“Well, sir,” replied Mr. Hallaran, “my wife, Mary 
Ann, was a little late for supper. She had biscuits 
for tea and that delayed her, and it was nigh on seven 
o’clock when I got through my meal. I sat smoking for 
a little time and did not notice it was past seven, till Mary 
Ann reminded me of the hour. So I was about five 
minutes late in going over to the bank to see that Mr. 
Ashton’s office was warm and comfortable and every- 

38 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

thing was right about the premises. I got back at half 
past seven and sat reading my book, sir, ‘A Strange 
Story,’ by Lytton, till ten.” 

“Did you go out during the evening?” asked Mr. 
Cameron. 

“I went out for about ten minutes, sir.” 

“Where did you go? At what hour?” asked the 
Attorney. 

“I went into Taylor’s tobacco store just on the corner 
two blocks away and bought some tobacco, and into 
Smith’s newstand and bought two New York newspapers 
and came in again.” 

“At what hour?” 

“It .was just twenty-two minutes past eight as I came 
in, for Mary Ann asked me the time as I came up the 
stairs and I looked at the hall clock and told her.” 

“You assert positively you were not out of your room 
after twenty-two minutes past eight till you went to the 
bank at ten?” asked Mr. Cameron. 

“I do, sir,” replied Mr. Hallaran. 

“Then it could not be correct that you were seen 
entering Mr. Donovan’s saloon shortly after nine o’clock? 
I shall be able to prove that you were on the corner of 
Broad and Chestnut Streets after nine o’clock and were 
seen entering that saloon.” 

Mr. Hallaran seemed much crestfallen and after a 
moment’s agitation confessed his mis-statement. He had 
gone out and taken a couple of drinks with friends in 
the saloon mentioned. He was cautioned to speak the 
whole truth hereafter, and dismissed for the present. 

Mrs. Hallaran on being called, corroborated all Mr. 
Hallaran’s statements, as to the late supper, as to his 
reading the book, as to his coming in and giving her the 
time as 8 :22 o’clock. In reply to a question she admitted 
Mr. Hallaran might have gone out and returned without 
her hearing from the kitchen where she was at work. She 
was positive he was only out a few minutes and returned 
at the time specified and that he was in his room reading 
between 9:30 and 10 o’clock. 

Lewis Parish, Mr. Ashton’s confidential clerk and 
trusted agent, was next called. We summarize all his 


39 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

statements referring to events up to and on the night of 
the murder. 

Had known Mr. Ashton for ten years and been, more 
or less, constantly associated with him as his confidential 
agent. First met Mr. Ashton in Glasgow, Scotland, 
where he went on a letter of introduction and commenda- 
tion from the Rev. Roscoe Phillips, rector of a leading 
Episcopal Church in Dublin. This Reverend gentleman 
had met Mr. Ashton during a tour in Switzerland and 
they had spent several delightful weeks together, a warm 
friendship springing up between them which resulted in 
a correspondence after they had separated. Mr. Ashton, 
it seemed, had asked the rector if he knew ot any good 
business man, capable of handling stocks, organizing 
stock companies, and an expert business agent generally, 
a man with some knowledge of banking and a man of 
sterling, trustworthy character. The rector had been 
kind enough to mention Mr. Parish’s name to Mr. Ash- 
ton and to give him a letter of strong commendation, 
which resulted shortly in his engagement by Mr. Ash- 
ton. He was at first secretary, afterwards served as 
agent, and had received and carried out many important 
commissions, had crossed the Atlantic several times to 
New York on Mr. Ashton’s business, while Mr. Ashton 
was in Scotland. 

(Here there was another sudden movement on the 
part of Mr. Molson whose nervousness excited general 
comment, and, on the part of many, pity). 

Parish came to W e with Mr. Ashton three years 

ago and had been steadily engaged with him since in the 
bank or in the New York Agency. 

“Where were you the evening of the murder ?” asked 
the Attorney. 

“I went to F — r — e at six o’clock and returned a little 
past eleven.” (The town of F — r — e is seven miles from 
W e.) 

“Did you go on business?” 

“I did, sir,” replied Mr. Parish. “I went to meet the 
agent of the Hartford Fire Insurance Co. We had 
received a renewal receipt for insurance and payment 
was then due, and I had agreed to meet the agent at the 


40 


The» Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Criterion and take supper with him. We had supper 
about seven o’clock and went to his room and smoked a 
few cigars. I got a shade lower rate on some insurance 
I took out with him on Mr. Ashton’s new building on 
Pearl Street. I had intended returning about eight o’clock 
or nine at the latest, but I noticed a play was on the 
boards that night at the Smith Opera House and although 
it was more for children than men, I concluded to go. I 
was always fond of the story of Uncle Tom’s Cabin 
when a boy and I said to myself, I will be a boy again 
for once and so I went. The play was over a little after 
ten, and I went back to my hotel, had a glass of beer with 
Mr. Snelgrove, the agent, got my rig and drove home. 
I reached the livery stable a little after eleven o’clock and 
on passing to my rooms over the bank, noticed the light in 
Mr. Ashton’s office and a crowd about the hall door and 
on coming up, Detective Conrad told me of the murder.” 

“You will have no difficulty* Mr. Parish, I presume, 
in proving your presence in F — r — e on that evening and 
accounting for your time fuly between 8 and i r o’clock?” 

“None, whatever, sir,” replied Mr. Parish with calm 
dignity and then went on to say, “the livery man from 
whom I hired the rig will testify — if need be — when I 
got it and when I returned it. My name is not on the 
books of the Criterion Hotel but the manager knows me 
well and will remember my visit, I am sure. The agent 
Mr. Snelgrove, will certify to my presence with him till 8 
o’clock or after. I remember meeting Mr. Simon Barnes 
at the door of the Opera House and chatted with him for 
a few minutes. Mr. Barnes holds considerable stock 
with us in several of our companies. 

“I presume he will recall that fact — and then — I may 
have — ^yes, I have the stub of the ticket in my vest pocket. 
Here it is: ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin Co., F — r — e, December 
31st, 18 — . Yes, sir. I can account for all my time if you 
think it necessary for me to do so.” 

“Quite satisfactory, Mr. Parish, very satisfactory,” 
said Mr. Cameron, and a semblance of a smile spread 
over his features. 

There was a new look, however, on Mr. Jaffery’s face, 
disguise or hide it as he doubtless endeavored to do, the 


41 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

look of a man who has heard something that interests 
him. 

After a moment’s pause the Attorney proceeded with 
his questions. 

"‘Do you know, Mr. Parish, if Mr. Ashton had any 
enemies ?” 

Mr. Parish paused for nearly half a minute before 
replying. 

once knew a man in Scotland,” said he, “who 
blamed Mr. Ashton severely for his financial ruin. It 
was some years ago. I did not think Mr. Ashton at all 
to blame in the matter. It was a question of one or the 
other of them losing and Mr. Ashton did what every 
business man would do, looked out for number one. I 
don’t think I would call him Mr. Ashton’s enemy since 
I never heard of him attempting or threatening to attempt 
any injury in reprisal. Aside from this one case I 
should say. No. Mr. Ashton has hosts and hosts of 
friends but I never knew a man I could clearly call his 
enemy.” 

“Had you observed any change in Mr. Ashton’s con- 
duct of late?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Parish with considerable empha- 
sis. “Mr. Ashton seemed of late to be absorbed in 
thought. I should say his domestic affairs were engag- 
ing more and more of his attention ” 

Here the interruption came not from Mr. Molson but 
from the heiress. Miss Ashton, who visibly shuddered 
and looked up at Mr. Parish with a look in which was 
mingled surprise and vexation and something closely 
akin to hate. 

Several noticed it, particularly the detectives and Mr. 
Molson, but each face wore a different expression as 
though each had read his own meaning into that look. 

“It is true,” Mr. Parish proceeded, “that Mr. Ashton 
seemed much interested of late in some collections but 
even this seemed to have relation to the house rather 
than the bank. He spent less time of late in the bank 
and more in his home.” 

“Did he seem contented and happy?” asked Mr. 
Cameron. 


42 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Never more so — never so much so/” said Mr. 
Parish. 

“You say Mr. Ashton was happier of late than usual. 
Was he not ordinarily a happy man?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Mr. Parish, “he was a man in good 
spirits as a rule, though I have seen him at times very 
much depressed. His face was a book you could easily 
read in his ordinary moods, but when he chose he could 
repress or restrain his feelings to perfection and could act 
any part his strong will suggested, and act it thoroughly 
too. He was a born actor, sir. He had what I should 
call a speaking countenance, generally. But when he 
chose he could make his face and manner and voice 
express perfectly whatever he liked to express. Ordinar- 
ily his face was the index of his feelings and his thoughts 
and I know of late he was a very happy man.” 

“What particular indications could you give to an- 
other person, Mr. Parish, by which he might know when 
Mr. Ashton was in his happiest mood?” asked Mr. Jaf- 
fery, who then turned and watched eagerly Mr. Molson's 
face. 

“Well!” replied Mr. Parish, “I have seem him a few 
times when his face was transfigured — a special light 
spread over it such as I have never seen on another 
human face.” 

“What class of events, Mr. Parish?” continued Mr. 
Jaifery, keeping his eagle gaze all the time on Mr. Mol- 
son’s face, “what class of events most pleased Mr. Ash- 
ton? Was it some successful business transaction, the 
overthrow of some rival, a large profit, or was it some- 
thing relating to human character and conduct?” 

“Always the latter” said Mr. Parish. “I never knew 
him to be exceedingly joyful over business gains. It 
was when he heard of, or read, or witnessed something 
noble in human conduct, something sublime as he called 
it in human action that his soul seemed on fire and to 
shine out of his face ” 

Mr. Molson sprang from his seat, pale as a spectre, 
stood trembling for a moment, and fell into the out- 
stretched arms of Mr. Williams in a faint. He was 
carried out and soon restored and soon came back, apolo- 


43 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


gizing to the Attorney for the interruption. The inci- 
dent caused a great sensation. 

Mr. Jaflfery, however, had not done. He had Mr. 
Parish specify certain incidents in which he had wit- 
nessed the glow on Mark Ashton’s face, one when he 
learned that Miss Helena had stopped Dr. Galloway’s 
horse which was running away down the street and thus 
rescued the helpless child in the rig from destruction, 
another after a conference in the office participated in by 
Mr. Molson and himself with the Banker on the subject 
of loaning money to the farmers, and still another 
instance, the very day of the murder he had seen the glow 
on Mark Ashton’s face between five and six o’clock, as 
he sat in his office. 

This confirmed Mr. Hallaran’s statement as to 
the Banker’s appearances about the same hour. 

It was evident to many of those present that this 
questioning of Mr. Jaffery and the facts brought out had 
no direct bearing on the investigation and were looked 
upon as a waste of time. For myself, knowing Mr. Jaf- 
fery’s ability, I did not doubt he had some good purpose 
in view — if only the instruction of some of the parties 
present — that prompted him to dwell on this particular 
peculiarity of Mr. Ashton. 

The next witness called was the Banker’s daughter. 
Miss Lucille. 

She was pale and had a most frightened, even despair- 
ing look upon her face, as though plunged from the sun- 
light of joy and happiness of the preceding glad days 
into the realm of gloom and overshadowing mystery. At 
first she hardly seemed to notice the Attorney and his 
associates, so absorbed was she in tearless and unutter- 
able woe. Only when she was addressed did she seem to 
wake from the stupor of grief and then it was with a 
start and a look of fright. 

“When did you see your father last before the 
tragedy?” asked the Attorney. 

“About five o’clock on that fatal day,” in a voice a 
little above a whisper. 

“Where was he then?” 

“Going into his office, sir, from the drawing room.” 


44 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Did he appear well and happy?’' 

“I never saw him happier or in better health,” she 
answered. 

“You would say then he had no anticipation of any 
calamity, no fears or forebodings of evil?” 

“On the contrary I know that he was especially full 
of hope and even of joy.” 

“Be kind enough to state to us some of your reasons 
for believing Mr. Ashton was looking forward with 
hope to the future and had no known cause to fear any 
calamity !” 

“I will state some reasons which led me to believe he 
had no anticipations of evil near at hand,” she answered. 
“He was in good health. His business was unusually 
prosperous. Some of his secret plans and purposes in 
life were about to be fulfilled and his dearest wishes 
gratified. I am not at liberty to explain — fully — what 
they were. They were plans cherished for many years 
and their fruition he thought was nigh at hand. . . . 

My father was one of the best men that ever lived” — her 
voice quivered with emotion and there were little sobs 
in her utterance but she went bravely on. “He was one 
of the least understood of men, a man of deepest sympa- 
thy, and divine charity for all, he delighted in secret good, 
despised the world’s opinion, had many friends — and if 
every men knew him as I did, every man would have 
been his friend. He had not a single enemy that I knew 
or ever heard of. Nothing in his late experiences could 
cause foreboding. They were all so bright and cheering 
and joyful. I know many causes for his unusual good 
spirits of late and especially for his happiness on the day 
when he was shot.” 

“Did you have any conversation with him that after- 
noon?” asked Mr. Cameron. 

Here Miss Lucille turned her head toward the wall, 
stood in agitation for a moment, then burst into a fit of 
such passionate weeping that every one present felt the 
agitation ^d the storm of sorrow that swept over her. 
For some minutes we all waited for the tempest to pass 
which shook and bent her as the storm shakes and bends 
the willows. Then calming herself by a noble effort, she 


45 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

went on: “Yes, I had a conversation with him that after- 
noon, for as he was passing from the drawing room 
through the hall to his office, with his face illumined, he 
caught me up in his arms and said, ‘Lucille, my darling, 
the hour for which I have watched and waited and 
prayed so many, many years is near at hand. The test- 
ing has been made and the result is pure gold, pure gold 
— pure gold. Oh, how happy we shall be when all is 
revealed!” and he kissed me twice and I was so happy 
that I could not speak.” 

Miss Lucille was asked what test Mark Ashton refer- 
red to but she remained silent. 

She was not asked many questions, her evident grief 
and suffering and the utter absence of the faintest 
suspicion that she could be possessed of any facts bearing 
on the crime, tended to incline Mr. Cameron to mercy 
and her examination was, therefore, largely a formality. 

One little circumstance, however, occurred as she was 
dismissed by the Attorney which evidently excited Mr. 
Jaffery’s attention and led to her subsequent recall. It 
was this : There was an evident feeling of relief, even of 
gladness came over her face as she was given permission 
to take her seat. More, there was the removal from her 
face of that look of dread and apprehension that had 
rested on her countenance throughout her examination, 
especially as she glanced towards Miss Ashton with a 
quick, sharp look of gratification. 

The latter did not seem to understand her but wore a 
puzzled expression on her pale face. It was evident to 
a close observer : 

1. That Miss Lucille had escaped some question she 
feared. 

2. That in some way she expected Helena to be as 
glad as herself over the escape. 

3. That Jaffery, possibly others also, saw the neces- 
sity of finding out more fully the extent of Miss Lucille’s 
knowledge, not of the crime itself, but at least of some 
facts that might direct suspicion upon others or have a 
bearing upon the detection of the criminal. That Miss 
Lucille for a moment entertained suspicion of her 
adopted sister at this time, Mr. Jaffery did not for a 

46 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

moment think — as I learned after from Jaffery’s own 
statement — ^but that she knew some fact which on the 
face of it pointed suspicion towards some person, prob- 
ably the heiress, seemed as certain to Jaffery as that two 
and two make four. In short, Mr. Jaffery had such 
knowledge of the depths and shallows of human nature, 
of the springs and currents of human conduct, and pos- 
sessed such ability to read the signals of these mental and 
emotional states, that the faintest modulation of the 
voice, the slightest shadow of a frown, the mere scintil- 
lation of a smile or the quivering of an eyelid, did not 
escape his notice and his careful analysis. 

After luncheon the investigation was continued at 2 

p. M. 

Miss Helena was then called upon and gave her testi- 
mony. 

All traces of color had faded from the face of the 
lovely heiress of Ashton Hall, as she stood before the 
Attorney and his fellow investigators. Her forehead 
and face were as impassive and dead as though cut from 
marble, all save her lustrous eyes which now had about 
them a look of pathetic hopelessness. She answered 
calmly enough, however, most of the questions and 
showed little signs of feeling save in the trembling of her 
hands. 

After some insignificant questions as to how long she 
had been a member of Mark Ashton’s family and where 
she received her education and how long since her return 
from college, the Attorney asked : 

“When did you last see Mr. Ashton, before the 
attempted murder?” 

“About five o’clock that afternoon.” 

“Where was he?” 

“In the drawing room.” 

“Did you have any conversation with him?” 

“I did.” 

“Will you tell us if, in your opinion, Mr. Ashton 
was in his usual good health and if he appeared to be 
hopeful and cheerful?” 

“Mr. Ashton seemed in good health of late and in a 
very cheerful state of mind.” 


47 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Did you observe any undue excitement in his con- 
versation or manner?” 

Miss Ashton hesitated. Her hands were trembling 
and her eyelids dropped. 

“Perhaps,” continued the Attorney, “I can reach the 
information in a better way. Will you please tell us if 
any other person was present during your last conver- 
sation with Mr. Ashton?” 

“Yes, Mr. Herbert Molson was in the drawing room 
at the time.” 

“Miss Ashton,” continued the Attorney, “without 
wishing to unduly intrude into personal or family con- 
cerns, will you give us the nature and subject of your 
conversation that afternoon.” 

“I must refuse to repeat that conversation,” said Miss 
Helena firmly. 

“Will you tell us, then, if there was anything in that 
conversation to excite Mr. Ashton, say to please or dis- 
please him ?” 

“Mr. Ashton was neither more nor less excited than I 
have seen him on other occasions. There was nothing in 
the conversation that could have a bearing on the crime 
committed.” 

“Are you stating an opinion?” asked the Attorney, 
“or are you speaking from positive knowledge when you 
make that statement?” 

“I am stating my opinion, of course,” she replied. 

“Will you state. Miss Ashton, that if that conversa- 
tion were fully reported before these officers of the law 
that it might not disclose a possible motive for the crime 
committed ?” 

She threw up her hands in nervous horror, there came 
over her face a look of unspeakable anguish as she shud- 
dered out her answer. “Never, sir, never!” 

“You refuse, then, to reveal the nature of that con- 
versation — but you will tell us if all three of you took 
part in it ?” 

“We did, sir.” 

“And how lopg did the conversation last?” 

“About an hour or more.” 


48 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Was Mr. Ashton present during the entire convensa- 

tionr’ 

“He was not.’’ 

“About how long would you say was Mr. Ashton in 
the drawing room?” 

“Perhaps, ten minutes.’ 

“Then you were not expecting him?” 

“I refuse to answer another question about that con- 
versation,” she replied hotly, her face flushed with color, 
her dark eyes gleaming with anger. She looked like 
Juno aroused. 

“Very well, then,” said the imperturbable Attorney, 
“we will not ask you about that conversation. We will 
ask about other matters. Dou you know, if at the time 
of this distardly crime, Mr. Ashton had any serious dis- 
agreement with any one?” 

“He had not, so far as my knowledge extends.” 

“Was he personally on good terms with Mr. Molson 
at that time?” 

There was no answer for a considerable time. Then 
a look of determination came over her face and she re- 
plied, “I have frequently heard Mr. Ashton speak in the 
highest terms of Mr. Molson. I know he greatly admired 
him in many respects.” 

“Was there not. Miss Ashton, to your certain knowl- 
edge some serious disagreement between Mr. Ashton and 
Mr. Herbert Molson?” 

“There was,” came from the white lips of the heiress. 

“Do you not know that as a matter of fact passionate 
words and utterances were used on each side?” 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Following such passionate utterances, then, on the 
part of Mr. Ashton, would it not be most natural that 
Mr. Molson should cherish a feeling of resentment? 
Have you not reason for thinking Mr. Molson cherished 
such a feeling of resentment?” 

She paused a moment, glanced boldly toward the pale 
face of Mr. Molson, and while a flame of crimson shot 
for an instant over her pallid face, she lifted up her head 


49 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

with pride and said, '‘He is too noble in purpose and 
character to cherish such a feeling/’ 

A thrill of admiration passed over her auditors, even 
the Attorney seemed silenced for a moment by the bold- 
ness of her words. 

Detective Conrad than interposed a few questions. 

“Will Miss Ashton be kind enough to tell us if she 
recognizes this revolver found on the day after the crime 
was committed?” 

“I do. It is, I believe, one that used to lie in the 
drawer of the library case and belonged to Mr. Ashton.” 

“When did you see it last ?” 

“Some weeks ago when I was looking for a small 
manual on music when I had to search through several 
drawers to find it.” 

As she uttered the words, “some weeks ago,” Miss 
Lucille turned an enquiring glance upon her sister’s face, 
scrutinizing it carefully, and dropped her eyes. The 
statement it would seem was unexpected or, at least the 
calmness and sincerity of tone with which it was uttered 
must have surprised Miss Lucille. The puzzled expres- 
sion was still discernible on her face some time after 
Miss Ashton had spoken the words. 

All this was clear enough to the reporter but how 
much more Mr. Jaffery read in the action of Miss 
Lucille, it would be difficult to say. 

“You are positive,” continued the Attorney, “this is 
the last time you saw it till this moment?” 

“I am positive,” she said in a deep ringing tone with 
a shade of indignation in it. 

Miss Lucille again glanced at her sister and cast her 
eyes upon the floor. 

Out of all that gathering of police and detectives and 
officers of the state and witnesses, probably Mr. Jaffery 
alone read with proximate accuracy the language of the 
changing expressions of the face, the movements of the 
body, the modulations of the voice, the meaning of the 
change in that wonderful organ, the eye, and was able to 
draw logical conclusions alike from what was expressed 
and what the witnesses sought to hide, from voice and 
look and manner as well as from words, yet it was 


50 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


extremely rare that his discoveries ever flashed their sig- 
nals over his own impassive face. 

“Miss Ashton, when Mr. Molson left you that par- 
ticular afternoon he passed through the hall generally 
used, the one communicating with the bank?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Would it be possible for one having the entry of 
Ashton Hall, say, anyone like Mr. Parish or Mr. Molson 
in passing unattended to the outer door, to step into the 
Library unobserved and appropriate the revolver?” 

“I presume so,” she answered. 

“As a matter of fact do you know if any one besides 
the members of your family, if Mr. Parish or Mr. Mol- 
son, knew that such a revolver was kept in the library 
and where it was kept?” 

“Yes, sir. I heard Mr. Ashton a few months ago 
mentioning the revolver and where it was kept. Mr. 
Parish also knew of its being kept there for he mentioned 
it to me the day of the robbery in F — r — e.” 

Mr. Jaffery here suggested that the Attorney should 
recall Miss Lucille as he had a question or two to ask her. 
She arose with a look of dismay upon her countenance. 

“I have merely a couple of points upon which I want 
your assistance. Miss Lucille, if you will pardon my 
inflicting this double task upon you.” 

Miss Lucille came forward but her steps were uneven 
and faltering. 

“It would seem that neither Miss Ashton or yourself 
saw your father after about five o’clock till the crime was 
committed,” said Mr. Jaffery. “Was he not at dinner 
with you at your usual hour at six o’clock ?” 

“No, sir, he was not.” 

“Do you know why?” 

“He sent us word he would not be down to dinner; 
he had some pressing work on hand and went to his own 
room.” 

“Had he occasionally missed his meals like this 
before ?” 

“Yes sir, occasionally he would miss one or even two 
meals in succession.” 


51 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Can you assign any cause for his conduct in this 
respect ?” 

“I have no certain explanation to give, only that when 
he got very much engaged in any work which interested 
him, he preferred his work to his meal. Sometimes 1 
knew he dreaded losing what he called his inspiration by 
the interruption of ideas through the meal hour, and, I 
know he thought it an advantage to health occasionally to 
omit a meal or two. Often, too, when joyful or very 
sad, he did not wish to eat but wished to be alone.” 

“Do you happen to know anything of the nature of 
the conversation that afternoon between Miss Ashton, 
Mr. Molson and your father?” 

“I do not,” she answered. 

“From all you know of Mr. Ashton’s temper and 
spirit of late which would you think the more likely that 
he remained away from dinner because he was very sad 
or very joyful?” 

“I don’t doubt for a moment. I think I know he was 
too joyful to eat his dinner.” 

“Did you hear what Miss Ashton confessed as to the 
passionate utterances between your father and Mr. Mol- 
son ?” 

“I did, sir.” 

“And you still think he was in a very happy frame of 
mind?” queried Mr. Jaifery. 

“I am perfectly assured of it. My father was exceed- 
ingly joyful and happy as he left the drawing room 
that day.” 

“Why,” said Mr. Jaffery, “this seems somewhat per- 
plexing” — and for once a faint glimmer of a smile stole 
over his face — “you surely believe the statement as to the 
passionate utterances and the serious disagreement 
between your father and Mr. Molson?” 

“Most assuredly I do, but I do not put the same inter- 
pretation upon them that my sister does, I know many 
things about my father and his inner life which no other 
living person knows, and I can interpret him better than 
my sister can.” 

“Do you think it possible. Miss Lucille, that your 
father could use passionate speech and appear to one 


52 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


who did not understand him well to be in passion, and 
yet not be? Or to put it plainly could your father for 
a good and noble purpose — say a good and noble purpose 
— ^act a part?” 

Miss Lucille dropped her gaze to the floor and a faint 
light — the dawning of a smile — stole into her eyes and 
cheeks as she answered meekly, “I think it is possible,, 
sir.” 

Again Jaflfery’s gaze was fixed on Molson's face. The 
young man had risen from his seat, a vacant look upon 
his pale face, and stood staring into space for an instant, 
then realizing himself and his surroundings he sank to 
his seat, his face crimsoned with shame. 

I had an impression all through this work of Mr. 
JaflPery’s that this was but preliminary to something 
more serious, a little prelude before the real performance 
designed to instruct some of the witnesses as much as to 
assist the investigation, and that more serious work was 
laid out by Mr. Jaffery for Miss Lucille and I was not 
disappointed. 

‘T have still another question, Miss Lucille,” said Mr. 
Jaffery, “when did you last see this revolver?” 

The question was a cruel one, apparently a heartless 
one. To confront a lovely and sensitive girl with the 
weapon that had robbed her of her dearest friend and to 
ask a question in presence of strangers that might, or 
might not, imply some knowledge of the murder, seemed 
cruelty itself. 

Yet, while the question in itself seemed outrageous 
there was much in Mr. Jaffery’s manner that showed her 
he was far from cherishing any intention of causing her 
needless suffering. His quiet manner and his slow 
hesitating way did much to relieve the shock of the 
question. 

As for Miss Lucille she bore it bravely and after a 
look at Miss Ashton in which her soul went out in affec- 
tion for her sister, she turned her face deliberately away 
from her and said : 

“I saw it at midnight, the night of the crime.” 

This produced the first genuine sensation of the 
investigation. Nearly everyone seemed to see in this 


53 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

confession the opening of a clue which must lead us 
straight to the assassin. 

The statement, nevertheless, seemed to be a painful 
surprise to all but the imperturbable Mr. Jalfery. In 
regard to others, nothing escaped him ; in regard to him- 
self nothing escaped from him. His face was the Sphinx 
and there was no alteration of manner, no rising or fall- 
ing inflection of voice, no tell-tale smiles or frowns, to 
show what he thought or felt, save in his intentional 
softening of his question to Miss Lucille. 

“Will you tell us,” he continued, “where you saw the 
revolver and how you came to find it?” 

“I found it on the hall stairs leading to the flat above.” 

On the suggestion of Mr. Jaffery Miss Lucille 
showed him and his associates the step near the top land- 
ing where the revolver lay in open sight. 

“How did you come to discover it ?” asked he. 

“Helena was very nervous. We thought she would 
faint. I ran up the stairs for a bottle of smelling salts 
she keeps in her drawer and it lay in open sight before 
me near the landing.” 

“What was your thought and feeling on finding the 
revolver?” he asked. 

She looked at him, a mute but powerful appeal upon 
her face, and he at once continued, “I will not pain you 
or trouble you more than I can help, but we must use our 
full power in investigating this dastardly deed.” 

“My first thought and feeling was one of horror, sir.” 

“Had you reason then or since for suspecting any 
person of the crime?” 

“No, sir. I had none then. I have none now.” 

“Will you please tell us, then, why you took the revol- 
ver and secreted it?” 

“I did not say I secreted it,” she replied. 

“No but you did, did you not? Now as you have no 
good motive for refusing to assist us in our difficult work 
and every motive for doing so, I am sure you will tell us 
all you know.” 

She seemed moved by this appeal and at once replied, 
“I took the revolver and hid it in a clothes closet on the 
second flat and later in the night placed it where it was 


54 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

found behind the matting of one of the steps leading to 
the basement.” 

“But your motive in so doing. Miss Lucille? You 
surely had a motive.” 

“My motive, if I had one,” she continued, “was to put 
the horrid revolver out of sight. I hated it. I wanted it 
out of my sight. I wanted it especially out of Helena’s 
sight, in her present over-wrought condition.” 

“Had you not some other motive?” relentlessly con- 
tinued Mr. Jaffrey. 

“If I acted from any clearly defined motive in my 
own mind, and not from blind impulse, I did not want 
the thing in sight, especially I did not want Helena to 
see it, I did not want anyone to know it was on the steps 
leading to our private apartments.” 

“Then you did it to shield some one whom you 
believed to be innocent from suspicions?” he asked. 

“No, some one whom I knew to be innocent,” she 
immediately answered. “No one who knew our family 
could suspect any of its inmates ; but the house was full 
of strangers; all sorts of rumors and suspicions arise at 
such times. I felt that strangers should not see the revol- 
ver there.” 

“So your motive was not to oppose the ends of jus- 
tice but to spare unnecessary pain to the innocent?” said 
Jaffery. 

She looked at him gratefully and answered : — 

“I had no other motive, so help me heaven.” 

“You must, nevertheless, have conjectured in your 
own mind as to how the revolver came there. Can you 
tell us the best explanation that has suggested itself to 
you ?” 

“The guilty one may have found difficulty in secret- 
ing it where it could not be found, or preferred leaving it 
where it would point suspicion on the family, or, perhaps, 
planned either by himself or the aid of another to throw 
suspicion on my sister.” 

“I do not ask you to mention any one’s name in sus- 
picion. May I ask if you can suggest to yourself a plaus- 
ible theory of some enemy of the family or of Mr. Ash- 


55 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

ton endeavoring to throw suspicion upon some of the 
household ?” 

must refuse to give voice to any suspicions I could 
not justify even to myself/’ she said. 

This finished Miss Lucille’s second examination, and 
as from the first, so also from this, it seemed evident; 

1 st. That Miss Lucille saw the possibility of her sis- 
ter being thrown under suspicion, not only from the revol- 
ver on the steps leading directly to her room, but also 
from other circumstances and that she feared this and 
was even willing to do considerable violence to her own 
feelings and run no little risk herself to save her sister 
this annoyance. 

2nd. That she had in mind one or more persons who 
might assume or who had assumed an attitude of hos- 
tility to Miss Helena and who might seek to throw sus- 
picion upon her. 

Query: — ^Who can that person be? The problem is 
not for the reporter, it is one for Thomas Jaffery to 
solve. Yet I could not help but wonder what circum- 
stance in the past life of the heiress, what known ele- 
ments of her character, or what in her relationship to 
Mark Ashton and his family, could lend color to such a 
suspicion. 

Miss Ashton was an adopted daughter, was recog- 
nized as the heiress, was a young womail of spirit and 
determination and, when incited to it, could act with an 
earnestness, vehemence, and some would say passion, in 
carrying out her strong will. Another fact, quite well 
known by this time. Miss Ashton was not fully in Mark 
Ashton’s confidence. While loved and trusted as a mem- 
ber of his household and family, she did not share like 
Miss Lucille, his inmost secret life. Miss Ashton, too, 
in loving, loyal obedience to what she considered Mark 
Ashton’s wishes had been living for some months a life 
of constraint, sorely tried at times, yet thoroughly 
devoted to her friend and benefactor, whom she loved 
and obeyed in many things she did not comprehend. 

All these things were well known to Miss Lucille 
AVere these her sole reasons for the deep dread and un- 

56 


Thei Mystery of Ashton Hall 

reasoning fear which had prompted her to acts of decep- 
tion and to encounter great risks? 

It was quite well known at this time to Mr. Jaflfery 
and a few others that Miss Ashton was chafing under 
her restraints, impatient with delay after delay in prom- 
ised explanations that seemed never forthcoming, and 
anxious to be admitted to the fullest confidence in the 
family secrets and responsibilities. 

These were some, though possibly not all, of the prob- 
lems in Jaffery’s mind which he determined to solve, if 
possible, by one or more private interviews if the case 
revealed no new and startling features, and still con- 
tinued perplexing after investigation. 

The next to be interrogated was Mr. Molson, a young 

man well and favorably known in W e as a teacher 

of violin, a very artistic performer on his chosen instru- 
ment, and also employed as assistant clerk in Mark 
Ashton Banking Company for the past five months. 

Mr. Molson’s appearance fully justified the reports 
of his recent illness. He came in company with his 
friend and foster-brother, Mr. Herbert Williams, bar- 
rister, and was encouraged and guided to a large extent 
by his counsel. Up to a certain point in his testimony he 
seems to have followed fully the directions and hints 
given him by his legal friend. At this point, judging by 
signs that passed between them, Mr. Molson manifested 
strong dissent from Mr. Williams’ directions and appar- 
ently pursued his own way. They seemed to me like 
two men walking through a woods, the first traveller tak- 
ing his cue entirely from the second until on reaching a 
certain part of the course, the first walks directly oflf from 
the prescribed course despite the protest of his friend. 

This caught the attention of Jaffery, but one had to 
observe him very closely to see that he was paying any 
attention to the matter. 

Mr. Molson’s condition was one to excite compas- 
sion. To begin with he was in a highly nervous, over- 
wrought state, and, as previously recorded, had several 
times been much startled by what he heard, particularly 
concerning Mark Ashton, and in certain instances had 
been so excited as to spring up under the intense feeling 


57 


The* Mystery of Ashton Hall 

aroused by some of the statements made. His weakness 
and suffering, judging from his emaciated appearance, 
the brightness of his eye, and the swaying of his figure 
as he leaned heavily at times on his friend, Mr. Williams, 
must have been apparent to all. Indeed there were not 
a few who had upon their faces a settled look of con- 
viction, doubtless interpreting these indications as proofs 
positive of his guilt. 

It was also interesting to note — as I did carefully — 
the attitude and demeanor of the heiress and Miss Lucille 
toward this witness. Miss Lucille sat, during all the 
painful ordeal with her eyes fixed upon him, beaming 
with evident interest, one might say affection, and smil- 
ing encouragement into his wan and wasted face. One 
might even say there was a boldness in her manner, a 
complete indifference in her mind as to what the world 
might think or say of her conduct (if her modesty, self- 
abasement and thorough sense of propriety were not gen- 
erally well known). When one remembers that Mr. Mol- 
son had only been a clerk in Mr. Ashton's bank a few 
months and had seldom visited Ashton Hall except as a 
hired teacher or musician, and as a young man strug- 
gling with poverty could lay no claim to equality with 
the social set in which the heiress and Miss Lucille 
moved, the interest manifested by the Banker’s daughter 
in her father’s clerk presented a problem well worthy 
of study. Ah, well ! no matter how old one grows or how 
wise, he will never be able to read the riddle of a woman’s 
heart or to solve the enigma of a woman’s conduct. 

And yet, I was sure of one thing and it was this: it 
could not be explained by the tender passion. If the 
Banker’s daughter had learned to love the Banker’s clerk 
no force of circumstances could have induced her to man- 
ifest it so openly and so bravely to the public. 

She, indeed, seemed oblivious of all around her but 
the witness undergoing his ordeal, so eager was she to 
show to him her full confidence and sympathy in the crit- 
ical hour. A sister could have done no more for a 
brother in the darkest hour and trial of his life. 

And every one seemed to realize this was a dark and 
trying hour for the young man. Reluctant as those inter- 

58 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

ested in the investigation were to accept any thought of 
his guilt, and high as had been the estimate of his worth 
on the part of the general public, it could no longer be 
denied that unnumbered little incidents, insignificant or 
united effects, were, like the strands of a rope, weaving 
themselves around him in circumstantial evidence which 
might yet destroy all hope and life itself. 

Mr. Molson seemed to realize this as, one after 

The Attorney proceeded vigorously with his questions 
ness, and sat with averted face like an immovable statue 
der occasionally passed over her features, 
during the long and harrowing scene, save that a shud- 

Miss Ashton deliberately looked away from the wit- 
fixed look of a most serious nature, 
another, the damning facts were drawn from his own 
lips in the testimony. 

Mr. Williams’ face was not so hopeless, yet had a 
at least inconclusive in themselves, yet strong in their 
as soon as Mr. Molson had risen. 

The interest was intense here, for it had been rumored 
about that an interview had been had in the drawing 
room on the day of the crime between Mr. Molson, the 
heiress and the Banker of a highly sensational and dra- 
matic nature, and it was fully expected that Mr. Molson 
would be questioned upon the subject. 

‘‘How long have you been engaged with the Mark 
Ashton Banking Co. ?” 

“Since the 15th of August last.” 

“Were you acquainted with Mr. Ashton or any of his 
family before that date ?” 

“I was not.” 

“Explain to us the nature of your duties, hours of 
service, etc., in the bank.” 

Mr. Molson here gave a succint account of his work 
which it is unnecessary to transcribe. 

“Have your relations with Mr. Ashton been agree- 
able and cordial?” 

“They have been generally so,” replied Mr. Mol- 
son. 

“Is banking your chosen profession?” 

“No, sir, I am a musician and only intended my clerk- 


59 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

ship to continue until I got fairly established as a teacher 
of music.” 

“Did you purpose continuing with Mr. Ashton in the 
bank, if the crime had not been committed?” 

“No, sir. I fully expected to have left Mr. Ashton's 
service the same night the crime was committed.” (Sen- 
sation). 

“Is it not customary to give a month's notice? Was it 
not part of your agreement?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then, as you had not given the Banker the month's 
notice, how could you close your engagement so sum- 
marily?” 

“I intended sacrificing my December salary in lieu 
of the month's notice.” 

“Would that have been just to your employer? Can 
you give us any good reason why you should sacrifice 
your salary for a month and put Mr. Ashton, perhaps, 
to some serious inconvenience when you might have 
avoided all this by giving due notice?” 

“I did not intend leaving, at least not so soon. My 
mind was not made up until recently.” 

“Then you lead us to infer that very recent events 
decided you to sever your connection with the bank?” 

“Yes, sir!” replied Mr. Molson. 

“You intended devoting all your time thereafter to 
music?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“In this city?” 

“No, sir — not permanently.” 

“Mr. Molson, as a matter of fact, had you not already 
made some arrangements for leaving the city?” 

“I expected to leave W e this week.” (Sensation). 

“And your arrangements were made without either 
acquainting your employer, or making any public an- 
nouncement, or even apprising all of your pupils. Surely 
you must admit this requires some explanation, does it 
not?” 

^ “I had good reasons, private reasons. I intended no 
injustice to any one. My pupils would all have been 
notified, but for this tragedy.” 


6o 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Why were you leaving W e?” continued the 

Attorney. “Your services were highly valued in the bank. 
You were offered, I understand, quite a substantial 
increase in salary. I am informed the Banker sought to 
make a permanent engagement with you. As a musician 
you are popular and I understand your class of pupils 
was rapidly growing. You had the patronage of some 
of our best citizens. Surely you must have had some 
powerful motive to induce you to leave all this. Can 
you not make your motives and your conduct clearer 
to us?’’ 

“I did not like W e. I wanted to travel. I pur- 

posed continuing my studies abroad for a time, then set- 
tling in New York.” 

“Were none of your friends apprised of your leave 
taking?” 

“Yes, sir, Mr. Williams knew and approved of my 
plans.” 

“Mr. Molson, you had some differences of opinion 
and some warm arguments from time to time with the 
Banker, did you not?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Were these of a personal nature?” 

“They were mostly on questions of policy concerning 
business operations,” replied Mr. Molson. 

“Tell us, Mr. Molson, how you, a junior clerk and 
only a few months in the bank, became concerned with 
the policy of the bank and at odds on this subject with 
the Banker?” 

“Mr. Ashton frequently called Mr. Parish and my- 
self into council on certain operations he had in view. 
As we were invited to participate and expected to carry 
out the plans laid down I felt I had a perfect right to 
express my opinion and denounce what I could not 
approve.” 

“Very good, Mr. Molson. But were these denunci- 
ations always confined to the policy of the bank? Did 
you not, on more than one occasion, denounce the Banker 
to his face and in bitter language? Did you not even 
threaten to leave him if he persisted in doing what he 
declared himself about to do?” 


6i 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Mr. Molson dropped his gaze to the floor and 
answered: 

“I did on two occasions tell the Banker my opinion 
of his plans, and I confess I did become personal on 
one occasion and told him my opinion of himself. Per- 
haps my words were bitter and uncalled for, I only know 
I spoke as I honestly felt at the time. On one occasion, 
too,I told him I should leave his service if he did what 
he declared he would do.” 

“Did this make any difference in the Banker’s treat- 
ment of you?” 

“I did not notice any perceptible difference.” 

“He sometimes invited you to his house?” 

“Yes, sir, on a few occasions.” 

“You never noted any resentment on his part for your 
denunciation of his policy or of himself?” 

“No, sir, I did not.” 

“Then, I infer, it was not specially because of 
strained relations with the Banker you were leaving his 
service ?” 

“It was not.” 

“Your purpose of leaving and your preparations were 
made before your interview with the Banker on the day 
of the crime, were they not?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Presuming, Mr. Molson, that you had no purpose 
of leaving the bank up to the hour of your interview 
with Mr. Ashton on the day of the crime, would you still 
have continued with him after that interview?” 

“I would not have served another day,” burst hotly 
from Mr. Molson’s lips. He looked around and then 
seemed to realize he had been imprudent and too impul- 
sive. 

“You had an interview with Miss Ashton on the 
afternoon of the day on which the crime was committed ? 
Did you call on that day by appointment?” 

“No, sir.” 

“You called, however, to see Miss Ashton and ” 

“No sir,” replied Mr. Molson, I “did not call to see 
Miss Ashton. “I did not desire — I had no intention of 
calling on Miss Ashton — or of seeing any one but Miss 


62 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Lucille — and only for a moment — to get a book loaned to 
her, a birthday present from my best friend” — and his 
voice faltered and ended with something like a sob. 

“Yet you had an interview with Miss Ashton, as we 
learn on good authority, and your interview lasted one 
hour and a half. Please explain.” 

“Miss Lucille was out and the girl took my request for 
the book to Miss Ashton instead.” 

“Mr. Ashton was present during a part of the inter- 
view, was he not?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Molson. 

“Will you tell us, Mr. Molson, the subject of your 
conversation, the nature of that interview?” asked the 
Attorney. 

“No, sir,” came in clear ringing tones from the same 
point in the evidence where Miss Ashton made her 
emphatic refusal. 

It was just at this point that Mr. Molson seemed to 
part company, metaphorically speaking, with his friend 
Mr. Williams. Every one could see the look of pained 
surprise on Mr. Williams’ face, and afterward a mute 
appeal there to Mr. Molson to alter his decision. It 
was unavailing. 

The question was repeated a number of times and in a 
variety of forms by the Attorney, but in vain. Mr. 
Molson was stubbornness itself. 

After a few moments conversation between the .State 
Attorney and Captain Sloane it was evidently determined 
to waive, for the present at least, all efforts at securing 
the information desired at this point and the questioning 
proceeded on a new track. 

“Have you been a suitor for Miss Ashton’s hand?” 
asked Mr. Cameron. 

“No, sir,” answered Mr. Molson. 

“Then you affirm, positively, it was not for the pur- 
pose of making a proposal for her hand that you called 
there that eventful day?” , 

“It was not,” replied Mr. Molson. 

“And you made no such proposal for her hand that 
day?” 


63 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Mr. Molson stood silent and ignored the question 
utterly. 

The question was repeated and Mr. Williams looked 
earnestly into the face of the witness but could get no 
answering look of recognition or favorable response in 
speech. If I read aright Mr. Williams’ look it said: 
“Confess the truth ; tell the whole truth ; it will be better 
for you.” Still Mr. Molson stood impassive. 

“Were you a frequent visitor at Ashton Hall?” 

“I was not,” replied Mr. Molson. 

“Were your visits there social visits or professional 
visits or partly one and partly the other?” 

“My visits were nearly all professional. I was Miss 
Ashton’s violin teacher.” 

“Were you not invited there to musicales, and did you 
not visit there socially?” 

“I was under engagement to play at the musicales, 
but seldom met the family socially.” 

“Do you persist in refusing to speak as to the nature 
of your interview on the day of the crime?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Will you assert that on the afternoon of that day 
you did not exchange bitter words with the Banker in h:s 
drawing room?” 

There was no answer. 

“I understand you left Ashton Hall about five o’clock 
that afternoon. Is that correct ?” 

“I don’t think it was as late as that — say between four 
and five o’clock,” answered Mr. Molson. 

“Will you say it was not as late as five o’clork?” 

“I do not know the exact time, possibly it was five 
o’clock,” answered Mr. Molson. 

“You were excited at the time, you wore e.xcited over 
the interview with the Banker, you did not realize what 
time it was. Is that so?” 

“It may have been.” 

Captain Sloane now undertook the questioning of the 
witness and his first question produced a decided sur- 
prise. 

“Mr. Molson, on the afternoon when you had the 

64 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


interview with Mr. Ashton in his drawing room, did you 
or did you not, lay your hands upon the Banker ?” 

A faint murmur of surprise ran round the group 
present. Mr. Molson was evidently surprised and alarmed 
and stood trembling for a moment. Miss Ashton shud- 
dered visibly. Then Mr. Williams caught the witness’ 
eye and this time with effect for he spoke up quickly and 
said, ‘T did, sir.” 

“Will you tell us the reason you did so?” 

“He was leaving the room, he had falsely accused me, 
I was indignant. I seized him by the shoulder and 
swung him round to face me.” 

“Did you not threaten him ?” 

“I repelled his charges.” 

“What did you say? What were his charges? Did 
you not threaten him ?” asked the Captain. 

There was no answer. Mr. Molson had relapsed into 
silence. He had recovered his composure. 

“Did you or did you not there propose to meet him 
again?” asked the Captain. 

There was no answer. 

“As a matter of fact you have not seen him since, 
have you?” 

This time the surprise came from Mr. Molson as he 
straightened himself up and boldly answered, “I saw him 
again that evening in his private office about nine o’clock.” 
(Sensation). 

“Did you meet him by appointment ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Was he expecting you?” 

“I think so, do not know positively. I believe he was 
expecting me.” 

“What took you to his private office at that unusual 
hour?” asked the Captain. 

“I went to apologize for what I had said and done in 
the afternoon.” 

“Was your interview a pleasant one ?” asked the Cap 
tain. 

“No, sir, it was not.” 

“Did any angry words, or words of reproach pass 
your lips there?” 


65 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


There was no response, though Mr. Molson opened 
his lips once, he changed his mind and was silent. 

^‘Did you threaten the Banker while you were with 
him?” No answer. 

Here there came a look of utter hopelessness over 
Mr. Molson’s face. He swayed a moment and fell 
gasping into Mr. Williams’ arms. 

It was five o’clock and the strain of excitement had 
been hard upon all, save, apparently, Mr. Jaffery. 

It was decided here to adjourn the investigation again 
till next day at lo a. m. 


66 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE INVESTIGATION CONCLUDED. PRIVATE 
CONFERENCES. 

John Gibson Hume. 

The investigation was resumed promptly on the fol- 
lowing morning and all who were present on the first day 
were in their places except Thomas Jaffery. 

Why he did not attend no one seemed positively to 
know. It was reported that he had satisfied himself that 
it was a foreign assassin who shot Mr. Ashton and that 
it was useless, therefore, to pursue the course the detec- 
tives were now engaged in. Whatever his motives were 
he kept them religiously to himself. 

One thing I do know, however, that whether Mr. Jaf- 
fery believed in the theory of a foreign assassin or not, he 
had not lost interest in the proceedings still going under 
the auspices of the police and state authorities, for that 
evening, after the second day’s investigation, I was sum- 
moned to his house on Clark Street and made him a com- 
plete and accurate report of all the proceedings of the 
second day and was well paid for my services. 

Mary Goodwin, the servant who usually attends the 
door at Ashton Hall, was summoned. Her testimony 
was a brief and unimportant one. She had been given 
permission by the housekeeper to attend a card party of 
her friends on New Year’s eve. She was very busy that 
afternoon when not attending to her regular duties in her 
own room, fixing her wearing apparel for the night. She 
had, therefore, left the door attendance largely to her 
sister, Lizzie. After the party she came in about ii 
o’clock and was admitted by a back basement door by her 
sister. She knew nothing of the afternoon callers anvl 
only heard of the crime about midnight. She was dis- 
missed. 

Lizzie Goodwin had a different story. She seems a 
strange contrast to her sister in appearance, manner, char- 
acter. She had a bold face, an inquisitive look, and is 

67 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


evidently much impressed with a sense of her own rights 
and her own importance. In contrast with her sister 
she seemed ready enough to talk. She looked at Mr. 
Molson with a keen triumphant expression on her face, 
as much as to say: “Ask no favors. You’ll get none from 
me. I am going to show no mercy.” Her story told in 
her own way and summarized was as follows : 

Had been in service at Ashton Hall since May. Had 
no particular complaint to make of the family and wished 
she could say as much for the visitors. Considered a 
girl doing honest service as good as those she served and 
entitled to respect and gratitude and that her feelings 
ought to be respected as much as other people’s. People 
had no right to accept faithful services and ‘snub’ those 
who rendered it. Not that she had been ‘snubbed’ by 
any of the family. But if the family had no right to 
‘snub’ a servant, what right had a visitor? 

She was employed to keep the hall and sleeping 
rooms in order, assist the cook or relieve her sister in 
attendance on the door. Her sister had special care of 
the library, parlor and drawing room, but she frequent- 
ly assisted her in her work. 

She happened to be in these rooms on the afternoon 
of December 31st, and this was how she learned of the 
interview between Mr. Molson and Miss Ashton and 
Mr. Ashton. She did not like being there, for once, 
while attending to duties in these rooms, she had been 
ordered out, insulted, ‘snubbed,’ you might say, and 
suspected of eaves-dropping. 

Did she know about that interview? Yes, she would 
tell it and she would speak the truth if these were the last 
words she ever said. 

No, she did not know the exact nature of the conver- 
sation between Mr. Molson and Miss Ashton. They 
were in the drawing room — she was in the parlor. She 
knew they talked a long time, an awful long time if Mr. 
Molson only wanted his book. She knew Miss Ashton 
was not well, and she remembered thinking she should 
have been in bed rather than sitting up entertaining visi- 
tors. 


68 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Yes, the door was shut between the parlor and draw- 
ing room. 

Yes, she knew when Mr. Ashton came in. He came 
into the parlor and she went out into the hall and con- 
tinued her dusting. Mr. Ashton did not stay long in 
the parlor, he soon entered the drawing room where she 
now heard Miss Ashton and Mr. Molson talking very 
earnestly. 

Could she tell what was said after Mr. Ashton entered 
the drawing room? Yes, and she would explain how 
that happened. She was standing near the door, her 
hand on the knob at the time and she heard loud voices 
inside and before she knew it — she meant no harm — the 
knob turned and the door opened such a little way, just a 
tiny crack. She meant no wrong to anybody. 

“Not at all, not at all,” said Mr. Cameron, evidently 
bent on restoring the girl’s sense of self-respect and self- 
possession. 

Could she then see what was going on? Oh, yes, 
very well. Could she hear everything that was said ? Oh, 
yes, very plainly. Didn’t she disturb the speakers by 
opening the door? Not at all. Could she recall the 
exact words that they said? Yes, she could, and if these 
were the last words she ever uttered she would say 
nothing different. 

Who was the first person that she heard speaking? 
Why, Mr. Ashton, of course. He spoke loud and clear 
and seemed to be very angry. He spoke with a kind of 
sneer these words: ‘And has Mr. Molson done you the 
great honor, my daughter, to propose for your hand?’ 

No, she was not mistaken. She had repeated the 
words over and over again and wrote them down in her 
room and many more as well. 

What else did Mr. Ashton say to Mr. Molson? 

She heard Miss Helena speak but did not catch it 
all distinctly. She would not like to repeat it for fear she 
did not get it right. She spoke very sorrowful like, but 
Mr. Ashton seemed angry — ^not, not at Miss Ashton — at 
Mr. Molson and he pointed his finger at Mr. Molson, but 
looked at Miss Helena as he said, ‘How much did Mark 
Ashton’s gold have to do with his love?’ 

69 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


No, she did not recollect quite all Mr. Ashton said 
though she had a good memory she thought. There was 
one thing more of Mr. Ashton’s sayings she could recall. 
It was at the close of quite a long speech by Mr. Ashton 
and she remembered it because when he came to this point 
he roused himself up and seemed to grow so tall and he 
pointed again at Mr. Molson and said, “Under a pretense, 
seek to captivate an heiress and capture a fortune.” She 
had the words written down in her scrap book. 

Could she recall any words that Mr. Molson used? 
Oh, yes, she could. Mr. Molson spoke about as loud as 
Mr. Ashton. He was very angry, too. What did she 
see just then? 

Why Mr. Ashton was turning away, as if to leave 
the room, when Mr. Molson sprang at him like a tiger. 
It was something Mr. Ashton said that seemed to make 
Mr. Molson wild and fierce. She thought when he 
sprang forward he would shake Mr. Ashton, but he did 
not. He seized him by the arm and swung him about 
and put his face to Mark Ashton’s face and said, “Your 
charges are as false as though a devil framed them. At 
another time and in another way I will answer them 
before I leave this place forever.” 

Did she know the meaning of these words at the 
time? No, she did not but she studied over them and 
said to herself, this isn’t the end of that quarrel. He’ll 
come back to Mr. Ashton’s private office to-nignt and 
then there’ll be a scene. Yes, she had thought it all out 
ahd had said to Mary, T’ll take your place in the hall 
to-night if you want to go to the party,’ and so she did. 

Yes, she knew very well when she let Mr. Molson 
in at night, what he had come for. She saw a great 
change had come over him but he wasn’t a bit afraid. He 
walked straight from the hall down the steps into Mr. 
Ashton’s office. No, she did not hear just what was said 
at the first between them, she had to go back and assist 
the cook on New Year’s dinner. She came out shortly 
afterwards as soon as she could be excused and she could 
hear their voices from the hall-way. Mr. Ashton was 
much quieter she thought than in the afternoon, at least 
he did not speak so loudly. So was Mr. Molson, too. 


70 


The; Mystery of Ashton Hall 


till he got to a certain point, then he seemed to get very 
rnuch excited for he raised his voice and she could hear 
distinctly every word he said after he raised his voice. 
The first part of the sentence must have been lower than 
the last for what she heard did not make sense without 
something going before. 

Could she recall the words? Yes, she couldn’t easily 
forget them if she had tried for they were “till the hour 
of your death, Mark Ashton!” (Sensation.) 

Would she swear to that in Court? Yes, or in any 
place. She would swear it on a hundred Bibles if she 
was to die to-morrow. She had said them over often 
since then, and especially after the shooting of the 
Banker, “till the hour of your death, Mark Ashton.” 

During all this exciting statement, while the group of 
listeners were divided in feeling between disgust of the 
brazen-faced spy, only too glad to repay some real or 
fancied rebuke received at Mr. Molson’s lips probably for 
former eaves-dropping, and the sensation of pained sur- 
prise produced by her positive statements of the very 
words of Mr. Molson and Mr. Ashton in the afternoon 
and evening, the young man sat like one stunned and life- 
less. Doubtless the repetition of these statements came 
upon him as a shock and he realized under the present 
circumstances the full significance that would be attached 
to them and the certainty with which they would point 
suspicion directly upon himself as the murderer of the 
Banker. 

At times a spasm of real suffering passed over his 
face, but for the most part he sat and heard as one who 
has already lost heart and hope and was beyond the power 
of pain and suffering, no matter what might occur. 

Mr. Williams, his friend, listened with deep and 
apparently absorbing interest to the recital but kept him- 
self well controlled. 

I noted that at times the dark lustrous eyes of the 
heiress blazed with anger and again she would show that 
trembling of the hands and suffering in her face so mani- 
fest in air yesterday’s proceedings. 

Miss Lucille was the only one whose demeanor 
remained unchanged. She made no effort to hide her 


71 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


interest in Mr. Molson, her admiration for him and her 
sympathy with him. This surprised the spectators as it 
had before, since it seemed so entirely out of harmony 
with her reputation for unobtrusive humility and the 
modesty of manner so generally attributed to her. 

After the witness had been seated she was recalled 
and briefly questioned by Captain Sloane. 

“Were you at the door when Mr. Molson left?” asked 
the Captain. 

“No, sir, I did not let him out.” 

“Do you know when he left the office?” 

“I believe he was leaving the office when he said the 
words, ‘till the hour of your death, Mark Ashton,' for 
I heard his step on the stairs leading up to the hall,” she 
said. 

“Why didn’t you remain and show him out?” asked 
the Captain. 

“Well, he never liked me. He ordered me out of the 
drawing room one day when I was there and he was 
giving a lesson. He might have thought I was spying on 
him. So when I thought he was coming up to go out, I 
slipped down the hall as fast as I could.” 

“Did you hear or see any one else in the hall that 
night ?” 

“I stole back about ten minutes later and I heard 
nothing about the Banker’s office or the hall near it, but I 
thought I heard some one in the back hall and I was 
afraid and went quickly down to my room in the base- 
ment.” 

The investigation was closed at one o’clock. 


72 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


CONFERENCES BETWEEN POLICE, DETEC- 
TIVES AND OFFICERS. 

Two days later I received a note from Captain Sloane 
commanding my attendance at the Police Headquarters 
that evening at eight o’clock to make official notes of a 
conference to be held by the officers and detectives. 

On reaching the office I found there present Captain 
Sloane, Chief of Police ; State Attorney C. H. Cameron, 
Mr. Buell, of the Detective force; Stephen Conrad and 
Patrick Donovan of the regular force and Thomas Jaf- 
fery, private detective. 

The report of this conference is made from, but not 
identical with, notes of the proceedings taken while there. 
It seems needless to say that all the proceedings of the 
conference could not be made public. 

The meeting resolved itself for the most part into a 
free and animated discussion of the statements that had 
been made in the last two days in the preliminary inves- 
tigation. Some minor reports were handed in from detec- 
tives detailed for special work. The contents of Mark 
Ashton’s desk, the fragment of the missing letter in Mark 
Ashton’s hand at the time of the crime, and some answers 
to correspondence begun since the tragedy with a view 
to disclosing the plans and purposes of the Banker, were 
placed before the conference and briefly discussed. This 
feature of the work, however, received slight considera- 
tion as it was assumed to be the special work of Captain 
Sloane, Mr. Buell and Mr. Jaffery. 

Reports came from Dr. Agnew through Captain 
Sloane that Mr. Ashton was showing remarkable vitality 
and would probably survive for a week or more, some of 
the indications were, indeed, favorable to recovery. While 
most wounds of the brain through shooting were fatal, 
men similarly wounded had been known to recover and 
regain apparent health and activity. So far, however, 
there was but faint signs of returning consciousness. 

A list of twelve strangers in the city on the night of 


73 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the crime was handed in by Stephen Conrad. These were 
selected out of a much larger number as worth investi- 
gating with a view of discovering some clue to the 
assassin. 

The question of careful surveillance of all inmates 
and parties connected with Ashton Hall and the Bank was 
discussed and some additions made to the men already 
engaged in such work. The State Attorney, Mr. Cameron, 
then asked the opinion of all present on the subject of 
making arrests. 

Mr. Jaffery was on his feet at once and said : 

'‘Gentlemen, a mistake at this moment might be 
fatal. I do not despair of being able to find and convict 
the criminal. If we arrest the guilty party before our 
evidence is complete, we tie our own hands in making a 
conviction. If we arrest the innocent — as I judge there 
may be some danger of doing — we cause much needless 
suffering. Pardon me for saying it, you are not ready to 
spring the net. I do not even know whom you propose 
to arrest. But unless you have much more evidence than 
I have seen, though you may possibly know the murderer, 
you cannot convict him. As the case now stands, there 
are surface indications of guilt in two or three directions. 
Think, I beseech you, of the danger of arresting the inno- 
cent, of the suffering and disgrace entailed. Think of 
the stigma you put upon a person by charging him with a 
heinous crime. You assume a tremendous responsibility 
in arresting a person on a charge of murder. Pause and 
reflect. Nothing will be lost by delay. On the contrary, 
we shall gather evidence more rapidly while the murderer 
is at liberty.” 

He took his seat and several arose and dissented from 
this view. The public were expecting arrests to be made 
and practically nothing had yet been done. This seemed 
to inspire the State Attorney who rose and said: 

“Gentlemen, four days ago an atrocious crime was 
committed in our midst. What have we done ? Heard a 
few statements, found the revolver and a few scraps of 
paper and the criminal in our very midst is yet free. Only 
one man could have committed the crime, so far as my 
judgment goes. Only in the case of one man is there an 


74 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


apparent motive for the deed. This man, the victim and 
the weapon were all together at the hour or within a few 
minutes of the hour when the deed of blood was done. 
That man quarrelled with Mark Ashton on the afternoon 
of the crime. He had an altercation with the Banker 
again in the evening, using threatening language on both 
occasions. He knew where the revolver was, had access 
to the room, and, however excellent his past character 
may have been, carried away by fancied insults of the 
afternoon, and by his refusal by the heiress, in a frenzy of 
love and passion, shot the Banker. 

“Gentlemen, where are your eyes? Where’s your 
reason? Could any one doubt his guilt who saw him 
to-day? What interpretations could any one put upon 
Molson’s nervousness and fright, except guilt? Why is 
he silent when he should speak? He should be arrested 
this hour before he has a chance to escape, or, perhaps, 
do violence to himself?” 

Captain Sloane could not favor the immediate arrest 
of Mf. Molson, although he agreed with the Attorney as 
to the indications of his guilt. He was now seriously ill 
at “The Willows,” the residence of John Eben Williams 
in the country. He favored his arrest as soon as he was 
able to be brought to the city. Meantime he would see 
that there was no possibility of escape. 

Detective Buell was not fully satisfied of Molson’s 
guilt — ^though he admitted there were many indications of 
it. He favored delay. 

Mr. Jaffery pleaded again for delay. On being asked 
if he knew the criminal, he answered, “The criminal is a 
foreigner. I shall know where to find him and shall do 
so as soon as we collect enough evidence to convict him. 
We require time for this. I pledge my professional 
reputation that he shall not escape. 

“But, pardon me, of all absurd conclusions I ever 
heard drawn from evidence and investigation, the charge 
that Herman Molson shot the Banker is the most absurd 
and ridiculous. It surpasses my comprehension how you 
could entertain the thought for a moment. 

“Forbear, gentlemen, putting a stigma on the life and 
character of one of the noblest young men I ever met.” 


75 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


The meeting broke up without any unanimous judg- 
ment being reached. 

Within a week, however, the Attorney ordered the 
arrest of young Molson, He was taken at “The Wil- 
lows’’ and lodged in jail at W e. When seized it 

is reported he tried to hide, then to destroy, his Diary, 
but was caught before his efforts were successful. As 
this Diary gives in a large measure the history of one 
of the chief actors in our drama, we insert it entire up 
to its last and imperfect entry. 


76 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


DIARY OF HERMAN MOLSON. 

(Found by Detective Conrad in Mr. Molson’s room at 
“The Willows,” at the time of his arrest for the murder 
of Mark Ashton.) 

“The Willows,” July nth, i8— , Co., N. Y. 

Twenty years of age to-day! Surely, it is time for 
me to interrogate the past and scan the future. 

For some years I have thought seriously of putting my 
life story into writing and recording my experiences from 
time to time. Not that there is anything great in the way 
of past achievement or future hopes, but solely for my 
own benefit and for enjoyment in years to come. I think 
such a record may induce me to study my own experience 
more, and I have an idea that each life is a revelation of 
truth, if we know how to interpret it. Then I think a 
journal of one’s experiences, and especially a diary in 
which the inner life is portrayed, may become a sort of 
companion to a lonely person, and surely I am one. 

In such a private journal one may tell secrets he 
would not give to his bosom friend, and I fancy from 
such a journal one may in time realize a sort of compan- 
ionship, even an imaginary sympathy, which at least is 
better than the cold indifference of the world of strangers. 

I am very impressional and often find myself doing 
what I had not planned and things, too, for the doing of 
which I could give, if questioned, no satisfactory reason. 
I often feel myself urged — is that too strong a word? — 
at least inclined to do things and yet fail to follow the 
inclinations or prompting. I have, on a few occasions, 
felt such an impulse to do some act, something heretofore 
unthought of, that I could scarcely have felt a stranger 
inclination if a loving friend had besought me with urgent 
words to do it. 

Why should a person feel suddenly prompted to take 
one rather than the other of two paths, equally short, 
equally pleasant, equally advantageous? Why should 
one get a sudden and strong impulse to go somewhere. 


77 


The* Mystery of Ashton Hall 

write some letter, say some word, and all heretofore 
uncontemplated, and for the doing of which one can give 
himself no satisfactory reason? 

One thing I have, however, noted and it is this : When 
I follow my impressions I am generally satisfied with the 
result and when I do not I often regret it. Good comes 
to me from following these mental impulses and inclina- 
tions. 

So I am following my impressions in beginning this 
Journal. 

I know I am not making a very fine or even orderly 
introduction, but as these pages are solely for my own 
personal use, a sort of connecting link between the yes- 
terdays and to-morrows of my life, what diiference will 
the style of composition make? 

The very irregularity of my expressions, the spontane- 
ous character of my thoughts and statements, will reveal 
myself more fully than any copied style of writing. 

I have another reason; I hope these pages in some 
future day may assist me, though I cannot now see how, 
to some solution of the mystery of my life ! 

All life is mystery. Every life has its unsolvable 
problems. Who, for example, can explain the origin of 
our impressions, such as I have described above? My 
life in a very special sense is a mysterious one. I have 
never known a father’s care, a mother’s love, the sweet 
and tender affection of brothers and sisters. I have been 
a pensioner upon the kindness and goodness of a family, 
the wife and mother of which I am told is some distant 
relation of my mother. I have had, up to the present, a 
small allowance sent me quarterly from a law firm in New 
York City and representing a remnant of a once colossal 
fortune which my father owned before he passed away. 
My mother died before him. 

My allowance comes regularly from the New York 
firm, but is first transmitted to them from a distant rela- 
tive and friend of my father’s in Scotland. With it I 
receive several times a year a letter from my “Unknown 
Friend.” It is typewritten always and signed only by the 
same mysterious words, “Unknown Friend.” It is gen- 
erally without date and locality. 

78 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


These letters contain only one text and one sermon: 
they are warnings against excessive love of, or devotion 
to, wealth. They are strong denunciations of covetious- 
ness and pen pictures describing the evils of inherited 
money and the curse of miserliness. 

It has seemed to me for years (and many and many 
times IVe thought of it during my struggling college 
days) what a grim kind of irony it is to send perfervid 
descriptions of the curse of gold and lectures on the re- 
sponsibilities of wealth to a poor orphan who has scarcely 
enough money to buy his violin strings ! Perhaps some- 
one is enjoying a joke at my expense. 

I cannot understand the secrecy. This weighs 
heavily upon my soul. If the “Unknown Friend’' knows 
my family history, why does he hide it from me? Why 
does he refuse to correspond direct with me? Why hide 
his name and his locality? Why does he not give me 
some knowledge of my father and mother? They must 
have relatives and surely I have a right to know who they 
are. 

Perhaps my father was a criminal, perhaps some 
events are kept from me concerning my father or mother, 
or both, which would pain and hurt my self-respect. I 
think I could bear that or anything rather than this awful 
uncertainty. Sometimes I wonder if I know my own 
name. 

I have made many inquiries of the kind friends with 
whom I have been brought up, the Williams family. They 
all know but little. The children I feel sure know 
practically nothing and whatever Mr. and Mrs. Williams 
know they will not tell. It seems I have been with them 
since I was three years old, since the time of my mother’s 
death. My father, so the tradition runs, was very wealthy 
once but lost nearly all his wealth and leaving New York 
for Europe was missed only when the boat arrived at 
some French port and reported lost at sea. 

When I enquire of Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I am told 
they really know but little and that little would not make 
me happier to know. The “Unknown Friend” had, it 
seems, some authority and instruction from my father in 
case anything happened to himself, and as he represents 


79 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


my father, both Mr. and Mrs. Williams and the law firm 
follow his instructions. When I write to the lawyers 
(Gregson, Mclaren & Clark) I always receive prompt and 
courteous replies but they amount to little more than 
pleas of ignorance or of temporary restriction under 
orders of the ^'Unknown Friend.” 

Once, between five and six years ago, I became so 
burdened with the mystery hanging over my life that I 
resolved to face the New York agents and demand an 
explanation of my past and find out if I had any living 
relatives. Mr. Williams made strenuous exertions to 
dissuade me from the journey, but, failing to do so, went 
with me. Alas ! My visit ended in failure as I might have 
foreseen, though I gained by inference a few ideas about 
the “Unknown Friend” which I believe to be correct. 

An old gentleman, the senior partner I think they 
called him, received me in his private office. He had a 
kind face and a very tender heart I know from his con- 
versation, and he asked me in gentle well modulated tones 
what he could do for me. 

“I came, Mr. Gregson,” I said, “because I want to 
know something about my mother and my father and 
myself and my people, if I have any. I think I have a 
right to know, and I think too,” I said it with some feel- 
ing, “you ought to tell me.” 

“Well, my dear boy,” said he laying his hand upon my 
shoulders, “I agree with you thoroughly, you have a 
right to know all that can be known. It would give me 
great pleasure to give you this information if I had it. I 
know only a very few facts myself and these not bearing 
particularly upon the points you mention. They are facts 
confided to us professionally and I am not permitted to 
speak of them.” 

“Did you know my parents?” I asked. 

“Unfortunately, I did not, my boy,” he said with much 
kindness. 

“They are both dead ?” I asked. 

“Your mother died when you were three years of age. 
Your father was missing from the passengers of a vessel 
which sailed from New York the following year. It is 
presumed on all hands that he was drowned, whether by 

8o 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


accident or suicide caused by grief over the loss of your 
mother, is not known. So far as I know the “Unknown 
Friend,” as he styles himself, is the only surviving rela- 
tive of your father’s family, and received authoritative 
instructions from your father concerning you in certain 
eventualities. What he knows of your past history or of 
your family he has, no doubt, some good reason for keep- 
ing to himself. That he is a man of intelligence, a warm 
friend of your family and a true friend to you I cannot 
doubt. Indeed, I know some facts that would convince 
you — were it at all necessary to present them — to prove 
his personal interest in you. One I will give you to satisfy 
you of his interest in your welfare. When he discovered 
how small was the remnant of your father’s fortune, 
saved from the financial wreck, he voluntarily added an 
equal amount himself and by his act of judicious invest- 
ment he hopes to continue your allowance till you are of 
age, increasing it necessarily while you are seeking your 
musical education, after which there will be no resource 
to you but your own exertions.” 

This was proof positive that I had in my “Unknown 
Friend” one who loved me and was in a fashion trying to 
do the best to help and guide the orphan child committed 
to his care. It was consoling in a way. But it did not 
solve the many mysteries thrown around my case — un- 
necessarily I thought — or satisfy my longings for com- 
munion with my own kin. 

“Have I any brothers or sisters ?” 

“None that I know of,” he answered. 

“Have you ever seen the ‘Unknown Friend?’ ” I asked. 

“I have not.” 

“Nor my father?” 

“One member of our firm saw your father and entered 
into engagements with him before his fatal voyage. This 
was one of my former partners who died seven years 



ago. 

“Then there is no one connected with your firm who 
can describe my father to me?” 

“None of my present partners have ever seen him” 
he answered. 

“Can you tell me, Mr. Gregson,” I asked, “any good 


8i 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


reason why this ‘Unknown Friend’ refuses to correspond 
direct with me? He certainly knows much more of my 
family history than your firm. A single letter might 
explain this mystery, set my doubts at rest and save- all 
this needless questioning and suspicion.” 

“My dear boy, he only can explain,” said Mr. Gregson. 
“I have been led to think he was carrying out instructions 
from your father and that some day you may learn more. 
Probably I am mistaken in this. Perhaps, I know not, 
there may be secrets in the family life which your father 
preferred you should never know. 

“But why be curious about a dead past when a living 
present is yours and a successful future may be before 
you? You have youth, prepossessing appearance, talent 
and can win your own way in life. Turn your face 
resolutely towards the future. Let the dead past bury 
its dead. Act, act in the living present. Be a worker, 
not a dreamer of dreams. You have a grand oppor- 
tunity of showing what a young man of spirit, courage 
and energy can do without the help of friends. In this 
way I am sure you will soonest find peace of mind and 
that happiness we all seek.” 

I thanked him for his advice but still pressed home my 
questions. 

“You say, Mr. Gregson, that you have reason to 
believe this ‘Unknown Friend’ is acting under my 
father’s instruction. Have you any idea what could lead 
my father to cut me off from knowledge of the family 
history and why the ‘Unknown Friend’ writes to me so 
much about the curse of money? Do you think this a 
part of my father’s instructions?” 

“I may tell you this much,” said Mr. Gregson, “but 
no more. I think I am not violating the spirit of my 
instructions when I say that your father had a very 
changeful and sorrowful life. From some of his own 
experiences and the experiences of others in the family, 
he derived a horror of inherited money. He came to look 
upon it as an awful temptation and in most cases a posi- 
tive curse. He formed the notion that the only way to 
learn the value of money to one’s self, the right use of 
money for others and the way to preserve money when 

82 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


once acquired, was to earn it by sturdy, honest toil, either 
manual labor or some other department of human 
endeavor which was equally necessary to the world’s 
progress and happiness. He preached that young people 
should be taught to trust in and rely upon themselves 
and never receive money which they had not earned until 
they had learned by experience how to use it for their 
own good and the good of others. This was a sort of 
hobby with him — and I tell you* frankly — I am very much 
of your father’s opinion.” 

Then after a brief pause he continued : 

‘‘What are you going to do with yourself? Have you 
chosen a profession? What do you like to study most? 
What do you like to do best of all ?” 

“Music,” I cried out, “is my one ambition and the 
greatest delight of my life.” 

“Music, then, it shall be,” said he, “with this pro- 
vision that after you have taken your music course you 
shall enter upon it as a profession to gain your livelihood 
thereby. Or, failing in that, turn your hands to any 
honorable employment and become one of the world’s 
honest workers, not an idler or a drone in society.” 

I readily agreed to this and the next fall in company 
with a companion much older than myself, whom the 
lawyers had found for me, sailed for Europe and entered 
upon the serious study of the violin in Leipsic. My 
allowance was sufficiently increased to cover all expenses 
of board and tuition but no large surplus, yet sufficient 
for actual expenses, so that I am not recording any com- 
plaint. 

I spent over five years there and of my success I will 
leave my teachers and others to speak. I worked very 
hard and enjoyed not only the instruction but especially 
the association with musicians and the privileges of hear- 
ing the very best, not only in solo playing but also in con- 
certed music. I think if I had possessed wealth and had 
had the direction of my own aflfairs, I would have 
remained ten years in place of five. As my progress had 
won such recognition and I was considered competent 
both to perform in public and to give instructions, and 
especially, as I had a suspicion that part of my expenses, 

83 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


perhaps the greater part, was supplied through the liberal- 
ity of my “Unknown Friend,” I came home five months 
ago to follow Mr. Gregson’s advice and make a career 
for myself. 

I had overworked and so have been having a delight- 
ful rest and visit combined at “The Willows,” which 
home I now appreciate more fully than ever before. 

And what a change I found in five years ! My play- 
mates of earlier years have grown into the stalwart man 
and two beautiful women of to-day. Herbert is already 
a practising lawyer in W e. Laura, the eldest daugh- 
ter, has graduated from the Women’s College in E , 

and Maud is soon to finish her course in the Young 
Ladies’ Academy. Laura has become a fine musician. 
We have spent nearly all our evenings since my return in 
impromptu concerts, especially Saturday and Sunday 
nights when “Herb” is at home. Herb is a fine bass and 
I carry, they say, a good tenor, and Laura and Maud 
contralto and soprano, while Mrs. Williams is one of the 
best accompanists I have met out of professional life. 

The family seem proud of my achievements and never 
lose an opportunity of expressing their gratification over 
my Leipsic course and their deep and tender interest in 
my future. 

As far as love and sympathy from friends can supply 
the lack of parental care and guidance and affection, I 
have had much cause for gratitude. 

So I came here for a few months of rest and recrea- 
tion before trying my powers in the great, busy, bustling 
world. I have lounged about, novel in hand, sauntered 
about the trout brooks of the neighborhood and done little 
else save an hour or two of daily practice to keep my hand 
on good terms with my violin. I have really been of 
little use to the world for the past four months, having 
only two things to my credit; I played a sonata on my 

violin for a church concert in R ,and have supplied 

many good messes of trout for Mrs. Williams’ dainty 
breakfasts. 

Now I am stronger than ever and I am trying to fix 
my gaze resolutely toward the unknown future. My past 
is a Sphinx with a stony face, absolutely refusing to. 

84 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


answer my heart questions. My future is a kingdom to 
conquer and to possess, and I shall conquer it. 

Speaking of the Williamses, why should I not set 
down here and now what I know of them and at least 
record my gratitude ? 

The family consists of five members: John Eben 
Williams, Mrs. Mary Louise Williams, the son Herbert, 
three years older than I am, Laura and Maud, twenty and 
eighteen years, respectively. I hardly know how to de- 
scribe Mr. Williams’ occupation. Perhaps, ‘‘gentleman 
farmer” would approach as closely to a true description 
as any other language. He owns several farms, has the 
oversight of many more, collects his rents, lives in great 

comfort and has frequent business in W e, where 

Herbert is establishing a law practice. He is a kind and 
thoroughly good man, very domestic in his nature, and 
pays all the deference to his wife that a loyal subject 
would to his queen. And well he way, for Mrs. Wil- 
liams is no ordinary woman. She is forty-two years of 
age whilst he approaches fifty. I know her exact age 
and shall record on these pages a few facts and a few im- 
pressions concerning this Queen of “The Willows.” To 
begin with, she must have been twenty years ago a 
woman of surpassing beauty for even to-day her face, 
form and carriage would excite instant attention and win 
admiration in any circle, however distinguished. She is 
above the average height, finely moulded, graceful in 
walk and manner with a very sweet and expressive face 
and eyes full of the light and love of summer. 

I must here record a persistent impression which 
haunts me, and always when I am near her, and that is, 
that she is connected in some way with my past, and, 
deny it as she may, knows some, if not all, of the circum- 
stances which make my present life so mysterious and my 
future so cheerless. Another thing, when I am near her 
that sense of loneliness which is the prevailing mental 
habit of my life, wears away; I seem to be surrounded by 
friends, who, though unseen, are sensibly near me; I feel 
borne in upon me those subtle waves of sympathy and 
love which suggest companionship and the purest joys of 
home aflPection. But what am I writing? Surely if 

85 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

these lines should become public I might well be charged 
with insanity! 

It is a fact, however, that Mrs. Williams’ presence 
produces on my soul nature the same result that good 
music does ; both lift me into a realm where the world of 
sense loses for a time its hold upon me ; it is a spiritual 
intoxication if you will, in which I see and hear and sense 
a new realm of existence. I often wonder whether Long- 
fellow’s beautiful lines really express a truth, or only a 
fanciful conception, when he says: ‘‘The spirit world 
around this world of sense floats like an atmosphere.” 

One little incident I will recall here, though I am 
under pledge never to give it publicity, while it is fresh 
in my memory for it may have a value to me in future 
years assisting to unravel the tangled skein of my life. 

It occurred but a few evenings before my departure 
for Leipsic. Mr. Williams and the children were in town 
purchasing some necessities for my outfit and some little 
parting souvenirs to remind me of their love when far 
away among strangers. 

Mrs. Williams had been suffering from a nervous 
headache and had fallen asleep on the sofa in her parlor. 
I sat in the adjoining sitting room and was spending the 
most sorrowful hours of my life. I was parting with my 
only friends and was going out alone into a world of 
strangers. I sat facing the fireplace, my head upon my 
hands, my elbows on my knees, and was sobbing as only 
an orphan can who was putting far behind all the little 
joys and comforts he had found in life. Perhaps I should 
here make a confession to myself of a very singular 
habit I had formed. Probably I am the only mortal guilty 
ot it — if guilt there be in it — a habit too, that most religi- 
ous people would condemn — that of praying to my 
mother in heaven rather than to the Almighty. I hardly 
know when or how I formed it. God has always seemed 
so great and so far away and so unrelated to all my little 
cares and sorrows — ^but my mother, I know if she could 
hear would listen and appreciate and sympathize and help 
me. Ever since I was a child, I have prayed to her when 
I was lonely, or sick or in trouble. Yet my mother was 
hardly a memory to me, only a faint recollection of a 


86 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

beautiful dying woman propped up among the pillows 
while I was lifted up to kiss her pallid cheeks. 

So I sat there alone in my grief, my heart breaking 
and my eyes suffused with tears and kept talking as it 
were unto her : “Oh, mother, your boy is so lonely. He is 
leaving all his good and true friends who have been so 
kind to him. He is going out among strangers alone. 
Oh, mother, comfort me !” 

Then I recalled some words of a beautiful poem by 
Emma Rood Tuttle, which must have been the soul 
lan^age of some poor, bereft orphan like myself, hun- 
gering for the love and companionship of a mother gone 
on before, and I repeated these over to myself : 

“Softly a prayer was breathed into my being; 

Sacred with love was the sighing refrain, — 

‘Father, my Father, all- wise and all-seeing. 

Send me the soul of my mother again. 

Open the gates where she walked into glory. 

Let her come back like her dear self again. 

Crownless and harpless, and hark to my story 
Full of such loneliness, doubting and pain.’ 

‘Go,’ sang my fellow immortals; ‘all heaven 
Knows not a labor more sacred than this; 

Love’s precious chain is not tarnished nor riven ; 
Heaven and earth link in sorrow and bliss.’ ” 

And I wondered if these teachings were true and the 
spirits of our departed friends really know of our joys 
and sorrows, and if my mother at that hour knew and 
sympathized with me and was permitted to draw near me. 

I was so self-absorbed I did not notice any movement 
on the part of Mrs. Williams until I heard the swishing 
of her dress upon the carpet just behind me. Before I 
could look up her arms were around my neck, her lips 
pressed kisses on my forehead and cheeks and her voice 
(I hardl}' recognized it so low and tremulous was it with 
emotion) fell on my ear in these memorable words: 

“Oh, my son, my beautiful boy! Take courage, you 

87 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


have many more friends than you know. Many are 
interested in you and are praying for you. Don’t be sor- 
rowful, but courageous. You will succeed beyond all 
your expectations at Leipsic. You must yet pass 
through great trials but afterwards will come the tri- 
umph. You will be tried as gold in the furnace. But 
after the suffering and darkness will come joy and glad- 
ness. All will ^be well in the — end, in — 

the — end .” 

Here she suddenly aroused herself, pushed me from 
her, and as quickly and noiselessly as possible glided back 
into the parlor and resumed her position on the sofa. 

Shocked by her language and conduct I began asking 
myself what it could mean. Why had she addressed me 
as her “son,” her “boy” and presumed upon such 
familiarity so utterly out of harmony with the usual 
manner of Mrs. Williams? Could it be? — ^but no, that 
was impossible ! But great as my astonishment had been 
it was even greater when a few minutes afterwards Mrs. 
Williams arose and coming into the room where I sat, 
drew up her chair beside me by the fire, and without the 
slightest trace of any agitation in voice or manner, or the 
faintest indication of any embarrassment, began to talk 
to me quite calmly about my preparations for leaving and 
to enquire about my health. 

Now Mrs. Williams had always been the very soul 
of candor and sincerity in her language and conduct up to 
this hour, but I could not help regarding her present con- 
duct as a bit of good acting. Here is evidence, I thought 
that Mrs. Williams is deeply interested in me. She has 
yielded to her impulses and said more than she intended. 
She knows more of me and my history than she has ever 
told. This is my opportunity — the last I will have for 
a long time — and I will embrace it and use it to the 
utmost. 

“Mrs. Williams,” I said, “you are my good, kind 
friend, and I owe more to you than I can ever repay. 
Tell me then — there are so many things I want to know 
and cannot know — tell me this one thing. Tell me what 
you meant a moment ago by calling me your ‘son,’ your 
‘boy?’” 


88 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


^‘Why/’ said she, a sudden agitation stealing over her 
quickly paling countenance, never— did I? When 

did I call you my boy?” 

I was impatient. I could not see how she could have 
forgotten it in a few minutes, and she certainly could not 
have done it in her sleep. 

“Mrs. Williams,” I said, “you know very well that 
not ten minutes ago you came out of that room, threw 
your arms about my neck, and kissed me several times 
and called me your ‘boy.’ You were weeping as you 
did so and your tears are still upon my cheek. Tell 
me ” 

“Oh,” she cried, turning deadly pale, “don’t — don’t 
speak of it — ^you hurt me so — ” and putting her hand to 
her heart she fell in a faint to the floor. 

She soon recovered, however, and became perfectly 
calm, and calling me to her side, said, “Herman, I can- 
not explain, if I used such language — and I presume I 
did or you would not say so — I cannot tell you why I did 
so. There are so many strange things in life; you could 
not understand them even if they were told to you. One 
thing I will tell you. I am subject to peculiar experi- 
ences; some would call them spells of sickness or hallu- 
cinations — it matters not what you call them — and in 
these I say and do what I am not conscious of at the 
time, and do not remember afterwards. Forget what I 
said to you, I beg of you.” 

“On one condition,” I said, determined to make the 
most of my opportunity, “I will forget what has occurred 
and trouble you with no more questions. Tell me at 
least this much. Was there anything to cause me shame 
in connection with my birth ?” 

“No, no, a thousand times no!” she said vehemently. 
“Your parents were among the noblest in the land and 
you were the idol of their hearts. There — I will say no 
more.” 

She never mentioned the matter to me again, and 
what is more, I have never had, whether from chance or 
design I do not know, a private conversation of more 
than a moment or two with Mrs. Williams since that 
hour. 


89 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Mr. Williams once referred to the incident just as I 
was leaving for Europe, and explained that his wife was 
subject to these peculiar nervous attacks, and that in 
these attacks, she appeared at times to labor under the 
hallucination that she was another person and would as- 
sume to speak in their behalf. It seemed to be a painful 
subject with him and he evidently wished to preserve this 
fact from the public. After some further explanations, 
none of which seemed very clear to me, he went on: 
'‘You, Herman, are now almost a man grown. You are 
a member of our family and are always to consider this 
your home and, of course, you feel an interest in the 
family honor and reputation. You are a young man of 
discretion and good judgment and I know you will — 
without my asking it — respect the privacy of our family 
life and never mention this peculiar incident.” 

And I gave him my promise and, of course, intend to 
honorably keep it. 

I must here record a confession. I played “detec- 
tive” in the Williams home for an hour one day — this 
was some months before I left for Europe. I shall not 
attempt to justify myself, for I feel I could not. But if 
this Diary is to be a fair picture of my life why should 
I not put into it the shades as well as the lights of my 
character ? 

This is how it came about. I had been reading in a 
New York paper an account of an infidel lecture, in 
which it was stated that the Bible declared “the iniquity 
of a man is better than the good deeds of a woman,” andt 
that “iniquity cometh from a woman as moths come from 
a garment.” Both of these statements struck me as so 
novel and preposterously absurd that I could not for a 
moment accept them as Bible passages. On glancing 
again at the account, however, I saw that the book, chap- 
ter and verse of the first statement was given. So I 
determined at once to verify the quotation or satisfy my- 
self it was a misstatement. I found the reference was 
to Ecclesiasticus XLII, chapter, and therefore belonged 
to the Apocrypha and could only be found in very old 
editions of the Protestant Bible or in the Douay version. 
I at once asked Mrs. Williams if she would give me a 


90 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Bible containing the Apocrypha, explaining for what 
purpose I desired it. 

“Why, yes,” she said, with her usual cheerful kind- 
ness, “our old family Bible has the Apocrypha. Maud 
will get it for you.” 

Then an instant later, I heard her call out — and there, 
was quite another tone in her voice — “Never mind, Maud 
dear, I will get it for him.” 

She went into the library and, after quite a long de- 
lay, returned with it, wiping the dust from its cover. 

Now, what had changed Mrs. Williams’ mind so sud- 
denly? I noted both the change of determination and 
the changed tone of voice. And why should she have 
taken so long to bring out a single volume, a large volume 
and, therefore, easily found, from an adjoining room? 
I was pondering these queries in my mind, during the 
long period in which I was turning over the leaves of the 
volume to find the book and chapter I wanted — for I was 
not so familiar with the book, as I fear I should have 
been — when I noticed a page torn from the Family Rec- 
ord. Two things were at once apparent to me in the 
hasty glance I gave the page. The leaf had been torn 
in haste and by a person under the influence of consid- 
erable excitement, for it was not torn evenly, but in such 
a manner as to leave a ragged and uneven margin still 
held near the binding. And part of the paper still re- 
tained by the binding not only had an uneven margin 
but had been split for a certain distance from the points 
of separation. From these facts and the fresh, uncol- 
ored surface of the split sections of the paper, it was 
quite evident, even to my hasty glance, that Mrs. Wil- 
liams had torn out a part of the Family Record. 

What was she hiding from me? What facts were 
there recorded she did not wish me to see? I deter- 
mined, if possible, to find out. As a precaution I thought 
it well to give Mrs. Williams no reason to think I had 
discovered the defacement of the family record. 

So I returned the Bible shortly afterwards, discussed 
volubly the passages I had looked up and, I think, lulled 
to sleep any stray suspicion that I had seen the torn page. 

A week later my opportunity for search came. I 


91 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


reasoned that Mrs. Williams would not destroy the ab- 
stracted page but lay it aside, and as the family were all 
out at this time, I began a systematic search and after 
about twenty minutes was rewarded by finding the torn 
page doubled and laid between some music sheets in the 
bottom of a library drawer. It told me nothing of note 
save that she herself was born in New York City on the 
28th day of August, 18 — , and that her maiden name was 
Mary Louise Molson! 

And so my good friend, the best earthly friend I had, 
wished most ardently and anxiously to keep from me the 
knowledge of the fact that she and I bore the same fam- 
ily name! But wdiy? 

Another mystery added to the innumerable mysteries 
surrounding my life. Another problem to be solved and 
another perplexing question to puzzle my poor brain 
over! 

My earliest recollections are interwoven with a bright, 
sunny room, full of objects of interest to children — 
books, pictures, playthings, ornaments and a hobby horse 
and a small table. 

With these I associate in my memory pictures, now 
so obscured as to be almost undecipherable, a sweet, 
placid- faced lady, ample in proportions and always at- 
tired in light clothing, her head adorned with a white 
cap. That this could have been my mother, I do not for 
a moment think, as, when - her image rises into mental 
vision, my lips unconsciously seem to form the words, 
and my inner ear to hear them, “Aunt May,’’ or “Aunt 
Mary,” probably the latter contracted in my childish 
speech to “May.” 

This scene lives with me ever among the few treas- 
ures of an early memory, and it must refer to a time, 
shortly before, or at the very time my mother passed 
away and the home was broken up. I feel satisfied it 
was about the time when my young life was committed 
to the care of Mrs. Williams. 

I was, I remember well, on that bright morning 
mounted on my hobby-horse and filling the room with 
my shoutings when “Aunt May” came in. I had never 
before seen her in such sorrow, and I do not think I 


92 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

have ever seen since such a picture of utter and despair- 
ing grief. 

She was very pale, and tottered as she walked with 
her hand upon her heart. She looked at me in my child- 
ish glee with such a look of unspeakable anguish in her 
face that, child as I was, I instantly comprehended the 
fact that some terrible calamity was at hand. 

I think I asked her some questions — ^probably what 
made her look so sad — when she fell into a fit of uncon- 
trollable weeping and seizing me in her arms cried 
out, “Oh, my poor Herman, my poor darling. Oh, you 
poor forsaken boy!” Then, after controlling her grief, 
she carried me to the bedside of a lady, whom I seemed 
to then know and recognize but of whom I had seen but 
little, probably owing to her illness. She could not have 
entered much into my young life, as my memory of her 
is very indistinct and not nearly as clear as of “Aunty 
May.” 

I remember this well, though, that on the occasion of 
my being taken to the sick room — ^probably the death 
chamber — there was a large number in the room and 
their very solemn manner deeply impressed me. 

Lying against the pillows which propped her up in 
the high bed, with her soul in her large sorrowful eyes, 
watching eagerly our entrance, lay a beautiful woman. 
She put her arms around my neck as the nurse lifted me 
up beside her, fondled my curly head, and bending over 
she embraced me tenderly, kissed me eagerly a number 
of times and then, on a motion of her hand, they took 
me quickly away. I have generally thought, though I 
have sometimes doubted, that she was my mother. 

I have now spent all my spare time for some evenings 
in writing up this lengthy introduction. Other past ex- 
periences will no doubt occur to me later and I shall put 
them on record as they occur. I find I have made no 
date entry since the first, nor have I recorded my beauti- 
ful birthday presents — an elegant edition of “Songs 
without Words” from Laura and Maud, a costly set of 
Shakespeare from Herbert and a purse well filled with 
gold coins from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. 


93 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Heaven repay these true and unselfish friends ! I 
fear I can never do so. 

After this I fully intend to be a little orderly and 
regular in my entries — unless some new trout brook 
should be discovered, or I should fall into Cupid’s net, 
or inherit a fortune or — change my mind. 

'The Willows, July 23d, 18 — . 

The way to perdition is paved, they say, with good 
intentions. My intentions certainly were good when I 
promised regular attention to this journal, but (here my 
human nature shines out) I am going to put the blame 
on another. Only to present the true manly characteris- 
tics I should put the blame on a "woman,” whereas I 
have only Squire Williams as a scapegoat. 

I have been with him four days by invitation, inspect- 
ing his farms, driving through the charming country, and 
delighted with the change of scene and the surpassing 
beauty of the landscape. I have found a new trout 
brook near W d and this should be, to any reason- 

able person, full and satisfactory explanation of, and apol- 
ogy for, my neglected journal. 

I caught eighteen speckled beauties out of one hole — 
have promised to take Herb there next time. 

"The Willows,” July 25, 18 — . 

Herb is home for a brief holiday, and we went fish- 
ing yesterday and found even finer trout and more of 
them farther up the glen. We brought home fifty-three. 
Shades of Isaac Walton, what a glorious time we had! 
Herb is a prince of good fellows, a real royal whole- 
souled friend and companion. Out of all the young men 
I’ve met in Europe or this country give me Herb for a 
comrade and friend. He is such "jolly company” — sees 
the funny side of everything and of everybody — is full 
of droll stories and with all his fun and frolic is a seri- 
ous-minded and high-principled young man. He ought 
to be almost perfect, with such a mother! He says I 
must settle down now and make a career for myself, and 
had better come to town with him and make a start. 


94 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“The Willows/' July 23, 18 — . 

I have just received in the firm’s large blue envelope 
a note from Gregson, McLaren and Clark, enclosing a 
letter from my “Unknown Friend.” It is upon Irish 
Linen post and carefully typewritten. I think I will 
transcribe it in full: 

Mr. Herman Molson, 

Dear Young Friend. — I am glad to learn from our 
agents that you are fast recuperating after your hard and 
very successful work at Leipsic. Your honors there 
have rejoiced me and the few surviving friends of your 
parents, and lead us to confidently expect your future 
will be marked by the same earnest application to duty 
and rewarded with the same success. I presume you are 
now qualified for teaching and as you are, I understand, 
entering on your twenty-first year, without doubt you 
shortly expect to begin your chosen profession and make 
yourself independent of all help from others. 

Now that you have successfully completed your 
course, I think it a duty I owe you to inform you of a 
fact or two which I kept from your knowledge while you 
were undergoing the strain of severe study and the 
ordeals of public performance before severe critics and 
masters. It is this: that the slender remnant of your 
father’s estate was quite insufficient to carry you through 
your college course, and it gave me great pleasure, at 
some little self-sacrifice, to advance about iioo per year 
for the last three years from my own meagre fortune. 
Please understand I am not presenting any claim, and 
shall never accept anything in return. I am mentioning 
this to you solely for the purpose of guarding you from 
any baseless hope that further aid would come to you 
from your father’s estate. 

As I was charged by your father to impress upon you 
and have frequently done so, so now I again remind you 
of the “Curse of Unearned Money.” Your father’s fre- 
quent statement to his friends in life, expressing his deep 
conviction, one burned into his very soul by dreadful 
family tragedies and sufferings, was this: 

'‘The only rightful way to receive money is to earn it 


95 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


hy honest toil, paying one hundred cents in labor value 
for every dollar received. Inherited money is generally 
accursed. No one knows how to use a fortune aright, or 
how to preserve a fortune, who has not himself acquired 
it by honest methods.” As you are now approaching 
your majority, a period in which many young men begin 
to think about matrimony, I feel it incumbent on me to 
remind you of another of your father’s sentiments — his 
utter detestation for fortune-hunting through marriage. 

I ought also to say that your father’s aversion to in- 
herited money and horror of marrying a fortune did not 
extend to money itself. He had a high appreciation of 
the self-made man and a high sense of the value of 
money when rightly acquired and used, and he greatly 
delighted in reading the lives of men who had risen from 
poverty to affluence by honest industry, prudence and 
skill. 

I hardly know why I should utter a word of warning 
against marrying millions in a rural district, where you 
probably see only farmers’ daughters, but I feel I have 
done right to apprise you of your father’s sentiments. 

With many prayers for your health and prosperity, 
I am. Your Unknown Friend. 

P. S. — The Agents will pay you on demand i25, 
which you will kindly accept as a token of my continued 
interest in your welfare. 

i 

‘The Willows,” July 30, 18 — . 

I am to spend a week in town with Herbert “looking 
round,” and, if there’s a fair opening for an idler, will 

soon become a citizen of W e. One condition I must 

exact in advance from any prospective employer and 
that is: at least two hours a day for practice on my be- 
loved violin. I want most of my evenings for 
engagements and pupils, if a stranger and an inexperi- 
enced teacher can be fortunate enough to find any. 

I am fully resolved also on this: my future is to be 
devoted sacredly to my instrument just as soon as I can 
gain a foothold in the profession and make enough 

96 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


money to sustain myself. Until then I will accept almost 
any situation that is honorable, provided I can see a way 
through it to the end I have in view. 

I am determined to earn money and lots of it, too. It 
seems from the letter of my “Unknown Friend” I am in 
debt, and although he proposes to make a donation of his 
claim I shall veto that straightway as soon as my income 
warrants it. I thank him all the same for his generous 
intentions. 


“‘The Willows,” Aug. 9th, 18 — . 

I am engaged as assistant book-keeper and clerk in 
the private banking establishment of Mark Ashton & Co. 
on Broad and Water Streets. My salary is small but my 
hours, from 9 to 12 and from i to 4, leave me consider- 
able time for daily practice and all my evenings to my- 
self. Am to begin work on the 15th inst. 

This is how it came about. Herbert overheard Mr. 
Ashton saying to the senior clerk that he was about to 
lose a valuable assistant, who is shortly going west with 
a rich uncle, and he hardly knew where to lay his hand 
upon a trusty and capable successor. On enquiry he 
found that experience was not so much a prime requisite 
in Mr. Ashton’s mind as aptness, willingness and trust- 
worthiness. Mr. Ashton wanted a young man with some 
knowledge of figures and mathematics, trusty and capable 
of being taught. 

That evening Herb called upon the Banker at his 
house, and, I have no doubt, gave him such a flattering 
picture of myself as to ensure the promise of an inter- 
view with me for the following day. All this Herbert — 
sly rascal that he is — kept most religiously to himself 
until about an hour before the time fixed for my inter- 
view with the Banker. 

“Put on your court manners, Herman,” said he, “and 
practice your best bow. Fortune waits on your move- 
ments to-day. I am about to introduce you to the chief 

financial magnate in W e with whom you have an 

appointment in precisely one hour from now. To-night 
you will make engagement as assistant book-keeper in 


97 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the Mark Ashton Banking Co. You will meet shortly 
the richest man in W e, onfe whose wealth is enor- 

mous. Prepare yourself for this important interview.*' 

“What on earth do you mean ?’* I called out in aston- 
ishment, for I had seldom been more surprised in my life. 

“Precisely what I say, for once,” responded Herb. 
Then he told me what he had done. 

“But a book-keeper!” I said in some amazement. “I 
have had no experience. True Pve taken a Commercial 
Course at the Academy, am a fair penman and reason- 
ably good at figures, but as to experience ” 

“You will gain all that in good time,” said Herb, “and 
if you are apt to learn will soon know all that is 
required of you. Besides you are only to be assistant 
and Parish, his head clerk and confidential agent, will 
soon coach you as to your duties. He will ‘break you 
in.* ” 

“But,” I continued, “it is a position of great respon- 
sibility. How could Mr. Ashton accept a stranger with- 
out recommendation ?” 

“Recommendation !” said Herb, “why I gave him a 
hundred glowing eulogies of you in half an hour. I 
told him you had lived with us over a dozen years and 
never — missed a meal. That you were as regular as a 
chronometer — went to bed every night between 9 and 12 
and always got up — some time next day. I said you 
were the soul of honor and would not fish in another 
man’s trout brook without permission for the world 
(alluding to my late breakfasts and our fishing on 
another’s preserve the week before) and I told him ” 

But I stopped his flow of banter with a skillfully 
aimed shot at his head with a sofa pillow and in the 
physical encounter following I gave him such a shaking 
as to compel silence for a time. 

Herb is older, stronger and slightly heavier than my- 
self, but no match for me in skill. I can throw him, out- 
run him and he cannot hold his own ten minutes with me 
in the ring. My athletic training couhts, but in a battle 
of words Herbs has me all to himself any day. 

“Now then,” I said, “tell me what really occurred 
between you and the Banker. What did you tell him?” 

98 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“Well, then, seriously, Herman,” said he, “I did paint 
him a pretty picture of your character. I am an artist, 
in words you know, of the impressionist school, and I did 
put the paint on as thick as it would hold. Air. Ashton 
expects to see an Adonis who will so charm every maiden 

lady in W e that she will deposit her last penny with 

him, a young man of such incorruptible honesty that mil- 
lions would be as a feather in the scale with it. I told 
him that you were a young man of — of — expectations 
yourself.” 

“For shame, Herb,” said I, “you said nothing so silly 
and atrocious as that?” 

“Oh, yes,” added Herbert as though he suddenly 
recalled it, “I told the Banker that you were deter- 
mined on marrying a rich girl and at the first opportunity 
and would like to get an introduction to his daughters, 
especially the heiress.” 

I saw it was useless to expect anything serious from 
him in his present mood and so got myself ready and off 
we started. 

The Banker was not in his office, having been sum- 
moned to his drawing room in Ashton Hall, and thither 
we were conducted, he having left directions to that 
effect. As we entered the cheerful and well-appointed 
drawing room, two ladies, I presume his daughters, of 
whom I have already heard much and doubtless may 
hear more, arose, pleasantly excused themselves to Mr. 
Ashton, and swept gracefully out of the room. 

The first of these was a tall and very graceful lady, a 
brunette with lustrous black eyes, a wealth of jet black 
hair which crowned a well-shaped head, and a face that 
seemed on first glance nearer to perfection in features 
and coloring than any I had ever seen before. She was 
exquisitely well-proportioned and her whole bearing and 
manner was regal, but — yes, I will record my first im- 
pression of her and say there was not a trace of the 
noble spirituality of my ideal woman in her being, so far 
as I could discover. Pride, ambition, passion, selfish- 
ness, possibly even cruelty, might exist beneath such an 
exterior, but the subtle something which has made Mrs. 
Williams a sort of standard of womanhood to me, was 


99 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

lacking. The higher and diviner nature either had 
never been awakened, or, having been awakened, had 
gone to sleep. There was the exquisite poise, the com- 
plete symmetry and perfection of form and finish which 
we all delight in, but these are found in the marble 
statue. The natural warmth and atmosphere of true 
womanhood was not apparent. 

The second daughter is a blonde, not so tall or finely 
formed, with a profusion of golden tresses on which 
the electric lights of the drawing room in shimmering 
sheen seemed to play as she glided from our sight. 
She had liquid blue eyes, a finely-proportioned and 
well-poised head, and while not so commanding in her 
bearing as the first, seemed more redolent of the light 
and love of true womanhood and the home. 

I know I am taking great liberties in putting into 
words, even in this private way, my unsubstantiated 
impressions of these two young ladies — some would say 
my whims, fancies and prejudices. But I am determined 
to test the accuracy of my first impressions — if I am ever 
permitted to form their acquaintance, which is hardly 
probable. 

I have never seen a greater contrast under one roof. 
Sisters? Impossible. The first I should call Night, the 
second. Morning; the first, Winter, with its possible 
storms and cold, biting tempest, the second. Spring, with 
its roses and smiling skies and zephyrs. The first is 
Juno; the second, Venus. But Venus does not answer 
the description perfectly. I will have to brush up my 
mythology and find a better term. Meantime I think the 
younger one bids fair to become the character Solomon 
described in Proverbs XXXI chapter. 

But what have the daughters to do with my business 
engagement with the Banker? Nothing whatever. I do 
not even know their names. 

Mark Ashton is a man of note and power, whom you 
are not likely to forget after once meeting. He leaves 
an impression on you and a deep one, too. Tall and 
sinewy, rather dark in complexion, with lofty forehead 
and well-developed in those lobes of the brain said to be 
the organ of the spiritual faailties. He has a clear, 


100 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


calm blue eye through which shines a native dignity and 
calmness of soul, usually regarded as attributes of power 
and marks of human greatness. His countenance is very 
expressive. What an orator he would have made ! What 
an actor ! I never met a man with more charm of man- 
ner or power to impress his ideas upon others. Herbert 
introduced me and Mr. Ashton called me “Mr. Morri- 
son,” but promptly apologized when he was corrected. 

The incident struck me as singular, as it was the only 
slip or halt in his speech for the hour. 

“Kindly tell a very busy man something which I 
should probably know, aTout yourself, Mr. Molson,” said 
the Banker. 

I gave him the main facts of my short and uneventful 
life, asking if he was prepared to trust one so completely 
a stranger. 

He smiled — he has a winning smile — ^and said no one 
was a stranger to him who had been introduced and com- 
mended by the Williams’ family. 

Then he lifted me into the seventh heaven of delight 
by a eulogy of Mrs. Williams, her gifts and graces and 
her model household, all done into sentences so perfect 
and delivered with such charm and effect, that I felt 
drawn to him with ties of sympathetic friendship before 
I had known him ten minutes. 

If Mr. Ashton had known me personally all my life 
and read the secrets of my heart, he could not have taken 
a more effective method of winning my good will than 
he did by touching those chords of gratitude and love 
which bound me to the dear ones at “The Willows.” 

He next asked me my age, my plans in life, and if I 
designed to take up banking as a profession. 

When I told him I was to be a musician, he answered : 

“A noble calling, doubtless, but a poor money-maker. 
I hope you intend to make money. It is a great power, 
and a young man of talent and courage and vim ought in 
these wonderful days to make lots of wealth.” 

At the mention of money his countenance seemed to 
change, and assumed a look of intense greediness and 
avarice. He sat looking for a moment into space, rub- 
bing his hands in a sort of avaricious glee, and repeating 

lOI 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


over and over the words in a monotone, “lots of money ! 
lots of money!” 

Then apparently waking up, he excused his absent- 
mindedness and resumed the conversation. 

“Well, then, the only question, Mr. Molson, is one 
of remuneration. If that is satisfactory, let us consider 
the engagement settled.” 

And so in a short time the contract was concluded, 
and we drifted to other topics. Mr. Ashton has rare 
powers of entertainment and he and Herbert get on 
capitally together. The interview was one of rich pleas- 
ure on my part, through the kindness and grace of the 
Banker, and but for the one untoward incident I should 
have been charmed with Mark Ashton. 

Of course, I allude to the revelation he gave us, un- 
consciously of course, of the intense love of money and 
spirit of avarice that is said to be his ruling passion. 

This was the one jarring note in the otherwise har- 
monious interview between a man of princely wealth and 
the young man starting out to make a career for himself. 
Well for Mark Ashton if he is wealthy and the master 
of his money. But, if my father’s instructions are true, 
alas! for Mark Ashton, if, as I fear, the money is mas- 
ter of the man. 

On the whole, my impression of the Banker is much 
more favorable than public report has led me to expect. 
I am told that he is regarded with aversion by the multi- 
tude, even with hatred and scorn by many, possibly 
through envy of his great possessions. Great wealth 
always excites the envy of narrow minds. But those 
who speak evil of the Banker justify themselves by point- 
ing out his greed for gold, his lack of a sense of justice 
as evidenced in the treatment of his daughters, his utter 
lack of mercy in dealing with competitors in business, 
and the passion which urges him on and on in amassing 
wealth by questionable methods, ignoring meantime the 
claims of charity about him. Those who know him best, 
or profess to, report that two passions rule him — the 
miser’s love of amassing and hoarding and an insatiable 
ambition to connect his family by marriage and wealth 
with some of the European aristocracy. 


102 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


What foundation, if any, there is for these charges I 
shall possibly know better in a few months. They tell 

very queer stories about him in W e and about his 

conduct. 

My first impression is favorable — with a full and 
painful recognition of the master passion of the man 
which flashed out so clearly in our first interview. I am 
puzzled, however, by the man’s peculiarities of action. I 
noted one, the rubbing of his hands. It occurred when 
he was talking of great wealth and amassing money. 
Evidently the thought pleased him. The other is the 
sudden irradiation of his face as from some internal 
source of light or inspiration. I had heard of it, and to- 
night saw a glimmer of it. It occurred when he was 
asking me about my future life-work and had told me 
what a poor business music was with which to earn a 
fortune, and hinted to me I had better change it for bank- 
ing. Herbert spoke up and said that the Rothschilds 
had not enough gold in their coffers to tempt Herman to 
give up his violin. As I turned my gaze toward him I 
saw this peculiar light upon his face. Had I been a 
friend of his or even a former acquaintance, I might 
have interpreted it as some expression of interest in me 
personally or approbation of my devotion to music, but 
as a perfect stranger I could only refer it to some pass- 
ing thought which crossed the surface of his mind with- 
out finding expression in speech, possibly some view of 
possible gain or triumph over a competitor or other simi- 
lar notion. 

One little incident may show the character of the man 
unless, indeed, it was used by him to test his visitors. I 
had made a statement that artists and musicians could 
not hope to become rich. 

“I hope you expect to be very rich, some day, Mr. 
Molson. Great riches make a man very powerful, very 
powerful,” said he, rubbing his hands in a sort of glee- 
ful rapidity. 

I shall some day learn the key to unlock Mark Ash- 
ton’s character — even if I cannot unlock the mystery of 
my own life. 


103 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Aug. 15 th, 18 — . 

I have put in my first day at the bank. Mr. Ashton 
received me courteously, even kindly, and handed me 
over to Mr. Parish, who is the real manager as well as 
chief bookkeeper and agent. 

Duties so far seem very light, mostly routine, prob- 
ably because there is little else that they can yet commit 
to my hands. In a month, Mr. Parish says, I shall un- 
derstand my work thoroughly. He is courteous and, I 
think, means to be kind, but I don't like him. I don’t 
even ask myself why, for I have learned there are many 
things about our likes and dislikes we can’t put into argu- 
ment and support by reason. He is a man about forty 
years of age, heavy set, muscular, swarthy countenance, 
a foreign air, black hair, a restless eye, medium height 
and polished in manner and speech. His polished man- 
ner and speech, however, lack the soulfulness and 
warmth we find in Mark Ashton. 

He has the reputation of being devoted especially to 
two things, religion and scientific study. He is a mem- 
ber of one of the prominent churches, converted through 
Mr. Moody’s evangelism. He spends his evenings, it is 
said, in scientific study and reading. Some say, how- 
ever, that he is writing a book, others that he is at work 
upon an invention, the one accepted fact being that he 
has his evenings mostly to himself and allows few inter- 
ruptions. He is regarded as a confirmed bachelor and 
gives the ladies “a wide berth,” as the saying goes. 

Sept. 1st, 18 — . 

I have a class of ten private pupils whom I teach in 
my evening hours and am leader of the new Symphony 
Orchestra. I am also progressing with my office work, 
so Lewis Parish tells me. Mr. Ashton has inspected my 
work twice, made a few suggestions, is greatly interested 
in handwriting as an index of character, and has devoted 
some time to my writing. Mr. Parish says he com- 
mended my “neatness and care” in making entries and 
my bold plain writing. He is something of a faddist. 


104 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


evidently, for he says character is as truly revealed in 
one’s handwriting as in his speech. I have not yet 
learned positively what it implies when he rubs one hand 
over the other — one of his mannerisms. I believe it is 
pleasure ; he did it to-day when inspecting my work. 

He attracts, yet constantly puzzles me. There seems 
to be in him attributes and qualities which I should think 
could not co-exist in any character. How can a man 
possess at one and the same time the ripened judgment 
and experience which he undoubtedly has, and be the 
secret slave of an unreasoning and consuming passion for 
gold? I cannot reconcile his evil reputation in this city 
as a rniser and a man devoid of conscience and principle 
in business, and the look of pure, unadulterated avarice 
I saw on his face during our first interview, with senti- 
ments I have heard from his lips and with what I feel 
concerning the man when I am near him. Ah, well, I 
will wait and see. 


Sept. 8th, 1 8 — . 

I have been introduced to Mark Ashton’s daughters. 
I was right in my first impression — they are not sisters. 
I learned this fact, however, through Herbert some time 
before I met them for the second time. 

The younger and smaller one, she with the golden 
hair, is his only daughter, and eighteen years of age. 
Her name is Lucille. 

The elder sister is an only daughter of a cousin of 
Mark Ashton, Leon St. Clair, and was legally adopted by 
the Banker about the time of his wife’s death in New 
York. It was also after the tragic death of Mr. St. 
Clair in New Orleans. 

According to report, this cousin of the Banker, who 
at one time had rendered a great service of personal 
friendship to him, having lost his wife, was stopping with 
his only child, Helena, then a girl of three, in the Pacific 
Hotel at New Orleans. A fire broke out and after the 
alarm and excitement was pretty well over, all the in- 
mates, as it was supposed, having been rescued, and the 
people were watching the building being devoured by 


105 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the greedy flames, a heart-rending cry was heard. A 
mother, residing with her child on the same flat as Mr. 
St. Clair had just returned from the opera to discover 
that her child was probably still in her room. Mr. St. 
Clair seized a sheet from the pile of bedding lying at the 
entrance, eluded the police, dashed into the burning 
building, found his way along the familiar corridor to the 
child’s room, seized her while sleeping and wrapping the 
sheet around her head, reached the doorway of the burn- 
ing building with the child safe, but only to fall ex- 
hausted into the arms of a fireman. He had breathed 
the flame himself in saving the life of the child, and died 
before the morning light. 

Helena was then alone in the world, and Mark Ash- 
ton, hearing of the heroic act from the lips of the mother 
whose child had been rescued, was so affected by the 
story that he missed two whole days from business, and 
soon after journeyed to New Orleans, erected a costly 
monument to Mr. St. Clair and legally adopted the daugh- 
ter as his own. The papers at the time rang the praises 
of St. Clair’s bravery and Mr. Ashton was also much 
praised for the grateful recognition he made to the hero’s 
daughter. I got these facts from Lewis Parish. 

Reverting again to the popular aversion to Mark Ash- 
ton — on the part of some we might call it hatred — may 
it not be traced in part to this singular fact that the 
adopted girl has seemingly usurped the place his own 
daughter should occupy. It seems to be on all hands 
understood and accepted that Miss Helena is the heiress 
and the bulk of all the vast properties owned by him is 
to go to her. She is recognized as mistress of Ashton 
Hall, as she is recognized as the social leader of her own 
somewhat exclusive set, has unstinted money at her com- 
mand, and the younger sister and real daughter of the 
Banker occupies a secondary and inferior position not 
only in the home, but in society as well. This fact seems 
so unnatural and unjust that the public, in resentment, 
condemns and denounces the one responsible for it. 

From words that fall occasionally from the Banker’s 
lips in his strangely communicative moods to his few 
chosen friends, it appears to be his idea to build up a 

io6 


The Mystery of Ashton HaK 


colossal fortune, found an estate and hand it down, 
through the marriage of the heiress with some represen- 
tative of the aristocracy of the old world, to succeeding 
generations. Not that, so far as I can learn, there is any 
lack of affection for his own child. Indeed, if reports be 
true, he idolizes Miss Lucille as he did her mother. And 
she is his inseparable companion, his consolation, his con- 
fidential adviser, and what seems even stranger still, is 
thoroughly at one with the Banker in all his efforts to 
promote Miss Helena’s glory and increase her success as 
a social leader. 

Doubtless another cause of the estrangement between 
the public and Mark Ashton is found in the fact that the 
adopted daughter on whom he is lavishing wealth and 
honors and to whom he proposes to give his wealth, is 
not popular with the public, while Miss Lucille is ex- 
tremely so. Miss Helena is cold and haughty in manner, 
and would never be considered approachable except 
through the formal rules and regulations of fashionable 
society. Miss Lucille is simple, affectionate, informal 
and so altogether human and lovable in her qualities that 
she is a general favorite, not only in the social circle, but 
also in everyday life. Nine out of every ten who know 
the young ladies inwardly curse the Banker for his an- 
nounced intention of making Miss Helena the heiress. 
And all Miss Ashton’s beauty cannot overcome this feel- 
ing. But then, after all, perhaps if they knew her better 
they might like her more. 

Miss Ashton assumes the air and manner of a prin- 
cess and spends the Banker’s money lavishly on costly 
dresses, entertainments and travel. Miss Lucille lives 
simply, dresses with simplicity, spends little money, and 
seems contented and happy. In fact, this is the strang- 
est thing about the inmates of Ashton Hall — that while 
each one there seems to act in a way which we might 
suppose would give offense to the others and which seems 
quite unnatural to outsiders, they all seem in love with 
one another and perfectly content. 

Another thing which has contributed to the unpopu- 
larity of the Banker is his well-known niggardliness in 
supporting the churches and the popular charities of the 

107 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


city. The man who from his wealth should be a leader 
in benevolences of this nature is either represented by 
some trifling sum in the subscription list to popular char- 
ities or his name is conspicuous by its absence. 

But I started in to tell about my introduction to the 
Banker’s daughters and how it came about. I see I must 
shorten up my entries or soon buy a new book. 

One evening at four p. m. Mr. Ashton sent word he 
wished to see me in his library. The library is just 
across the hallway from his private office, the bank and 
Ashton Hall being connected buildings. 

I waited on him at once and was motioned to a chair. 
He expressed his pleasure that I was likely to render, 
after a little, effective service and hoped we should get 
on well together, and asked me if I liked my work. 

“Yes and no,” I replied. “I like it as well as I can 
expect to like any purely business engagement. The 
duties are not at all burdensome, and I am kindly treated 
by all concerned, but music is my chosen profession and 
my delight and some day I shall give myself unreservedly 
to it.” 

“Be advised by one much older, and who should be 
wiser,” said he, “and give it up.” 

“I shall never give up my calling.” I added proudly. 
“The world needs music as much as it needs commerce. 
It is what nature intended me for — what I can do best 
— and I am as truly called to add to the world’s har- 
mony as others are to add to the world’s wealth, or as 
the minister is to preach his gospel. No, I shall follow 
music for life.” 

“And live and die in poverty!” added Mr. Ashton, 
rubbing his hands over each other vigorously. “Why 
there’s no chance of a man becoming rich, much less 
amassing a princely fortune in music. It is a poor 
starveling kind of business. Why — with one good stroke 
in stocks I’ll make more money than you would gather in 
a life-time!” 

He said it so proudly, so insolently and with such 
a sense of superiority, that it exasperated me and I said 
somewhat hotly: — 


io8 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“Yes, perhaps so. But what you have gained by 
your lucky stroke, another person has lost. Gambling 
does not enrich the world. And, after all, money is not 
the only thing in the world, nor is it the chief thing, in 
my estimation.” 

He got up and strode across the floor two or three 
times, his face turned from me, and I could not tell 
whether I had pleased or angered him. I had certainly 
interested him. When he had seated himself again I 
noted that his face had no token of resentment for my 
bold speech, it was even beautiful. 

“Ah, well,” he said at last, “ a wilful man must have 
his way. I’ll not say more at present. Perhaps ex- 
perience will bring you change of view and wisdom.” 

After a little he resumed: “Mr. Molson, I have 
reposed much confidence in you in taking you into my 
bank and I am about to repose still greater confidence 
in you in inviting you to my house. I do not introduce 
many into the circle of our family acquaintance and only 
those I fully trust.” 

“You flatter me very much, Mr. Ashton,” I replied, 
“and I hope I may deserve your confidence.” 

“The fact is,” said he, “an exigency has arisen in 
regard to one number on the program for my daughter’s 
musicale this evening. The artist is ill, and Miss Ashton 
highly prides herself on the select character not only 
of her guests, but also of her program. I am deputized, 
therefore, to see if I can make terms with you to fill 
the missing numbers. We discussed a number of other 
names to supply the vacancy, but you know, Mr. Molson, 
there are artists who play creditably, who would pre- 
sume on such an invitation and — but I will let the young 
ladies plead their own cause,” and tapping the bell he 
summoned the daughters into the library. 

Both young ladies were equally charming, radiant 
in their beauty, presenting, of course, contrasting types. 

After the introduction Miss Ashton went direct to 
the point and asked me if I would consent on such 
short notice to supply the missing numbers, and I as- 
sented to her request with what grace I could command. 


109 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


so the only point to settle was the selection. I gave her 
the choice of several selections: the E Major Concerto 
by Bach; The Carnival of Venice; Otello Fantaisie; The 
Gypsy Dance; an Aria of Beethoven; Melodies,, Chants 
du Voyageur, 1. Paderewski ; May Song by Vogt. But she 
had learned I was a composer and wished one of my own 
compositions. It was in vain that I insisted on the un- 
seemliness of my appearing first in a composition of 
my own and pointed out the simple unpretentious char- 
acter of the two violin compositions I had been bold 
enough to give to the world. She was resolute, and I 
equally so, until Miss Lucille suggested the “Carnival 
of Venice” and the May Song as the numbers to be an- 
nounced with the understanding that I would play a com- 
position of my own as an encore. 

To this I laughingly assented, “provided an encore 
is demanded.” 

I took my leave at once. Mr. Ashton accompanied 
me to the door and said, “I am delighted that I shall 
be able to hear you in my own home. The program 
is now complete and I thank you most sincerely for re- 
sponding to our request on such short notice.” 

My first impression of the young ladies is confirmed 
by what I saw of them in my introduction. Miss Ash- 
ton’s is the most perfect face I have ever seen, but there 
is a something lacking about her that is present with 
Miss Lucille. She represents and emphasizes the ex- 
terior beauty of attire, face, form and manner; Miss 
Lucille has the warmth and glow of th^ inner life and 
beauty as well. She radiates it and satisfies one’s long- 
ing for perfect balance of attractions between the phy- 
sical and the spiritual. 

There breathes about Miss Lucille the air of June 
with suggestions of budding life and fragrance and 
flowers. There is a sensible chill to the emotions in 
Miss Ashton’s presence as though November air and 
cold were at hand, or as though you stood beside a marble 
statue rather than a living being. 

I could not but speculate what possibilities of ideal 
womanhood were before Miss Helena if, added to her 
divine beauty, there should ever come to her the living 


no 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


soul of true womanhood. I noted these differences be- 
tween the young ladies in the Library when they each in 
turn thanked me very prettily for coming to their rescue 
so opportunely. Each used very simple and expressive 
words, each charmed me with her manner, but Lucille’s 
thanks were seconded by her beaming eyes and warmed 
by the genial atmosphere of her being, while Helena’s 
thanks were, with all her prettiness, the thanks of polite 
society and of the shop. 

I filled my professional engagement — for such (alas, 
for human hopes!) it proved to be — at the Ashton Hall 
last evening and on this wise. I was very kindly re- 
ceived by Miss Lucille and afterwards by Miss Ashton, 
who introduced me to my fellow musicians but to no 
one else. 

I came on the third number of part H and gave 
the “Carnival” as we had arranged. I spent a few un- 
comfortable moments of inward agitation before my 
number was reached but lost all fear, as I always do, 
when once my hand has drawn the bow. I think I 
never played it better, possibly never quite so well, and 
received a very fine and appreciative hearing and at the 
close, in response to hearty applause, gave the old favo- 
rite “Home, Sweet Home” with my own variations and 
then had to bow my thanks in response to several recalls. 
The May Song won equal appreciation. 

Miss Ashton seemed to be delighted and at the close 
of the musicale, thanked me for my “artistic work,” pro- 
nounced me a “true artist” and said other gratifying 
things. Miss Lucille simply said a plain old fashioned 
“Thank, you, Mr. Molson” but supported this with a 
beaming look of gratitude. 

As I was not introduced to the guests I took my leave 
at the close of the concert and on doing so Miss Ashton 
said in undertone, “Papa Ashton will send you your 
fee.” 

“Fee!” I said in indignant surprise. “Assuredly,” 
said she, “you did not think we could accept your ser- 
vices in any other way.” 

The whole evening which had been one of delight — 


III 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


save the incident noted above — was now completely 
spoiled for me. I wished I had not entered Ashton Hall. 
So, Papa Ashton had sought to warn me before the 
musicale and Miss Ashton had plainly told me after it, 
that I was a hired performer — did not belong to their 
set — and to be paid for my services just as the man who 
tuned the piano or the one who furnished refreshments ! 
The whole teaching of the affair as far as I was con- 
cerned was this : “You belong to the class who serve ; 
we’ll pay you for the service ; but do not presume you are 
our equals.” 

I am richer by a generous check which came next 
day and in my experience of the world, but I feel like 
one who is mountain climbing and has received a bad 
fall, is sorely bruised and full of suffering. I know 
better what to expect hereafter at Ashton Hall. 

But what right have I to complain? How could a 
penniless youth be the equal to a millionaire? It is an 
age of mammon and mammon worship! 

My solos at Miss Ashton’s musicale have caught the 

ear of the music-loving citizens of W e. The papers 

were very appreciative in their notices and I have al- 
ready had four ivitations to similar gatherings to be held 
within the next few weeks. I am likely to have a larger 
class and much concert work this fall and winter. Some 
very kind people seem a little disposed to lionize the new 
teacher of violin. Such extremists do their friends 
more harm than good and I am determined not to lose my 
head because a few good people are too enthusiastic. 

My surprise and indignation at the payment for my 
services seems to have been talked over by the Ashton 
household. It could scarcely have escaped Miss Ashton’s 
attention, I think. I heard from all of them a few apo- 
logetic words in the morning. Miss Lucille sent a 
note to say she regretted I had suffered over the in- 
cident and Miss Ashton herself called at my desk and 
briefly, but prettily told me how many of her friends had 
been enquiring about me and how warm their commen- 
dation of my good work and said in going, “Of course 
you know I did not intend to hurt your feelings by men- 
tioning a fee” and with a smile bowed herself out. 

II2 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Sept, nth, 1 8 — . 

I have had some experiences of late that reveal 
some darker shades in Mark Ashton’s character. 

Last evening Mr. Parish and myself were summoned 
to his private office to meet the Banker in conference. 
Mr. Ashton opened the conference promptly at the 
hour appointed by a little address which I am able to 
summarize — thanks to a good verbal memory — about 
as follows: — 

“As I explained to you, Mr. Parish, in my last 
interview, and Mr. Molson may as well become 
acquainted with our policy and purposes since we will 
need his aid, I wish to turn certain securities into cash 
and make all collections I can so as to have, for pos- 
sible contingencies, at least half a million in ready money 
available within the next few weeks, or at the latest, say 
before the end of the year. It is quite a tidy little sum 
and will require some labor but with your hearty co-op- 
peration, gentlement, it can be done and even overdone 
before the end of the year. 

“Now on Tuesday next, Mr. Parish, you will go to 
New York and meet in the same hotel, in the same 
room, and at the same hour as in your former trips 
three of my friends from the West and two from New 
York, all equally interested in our series “A” Railroad 
stock, and hear what plans they have for “bulling” the 
market and then unloading this stock as speedily as pos- 
sible. I have written instructions which are sealed at 
present and which you may open after hearing their 
proposals. I leave you absolute power of decision. I 
want to close out that stock summarily and, of course, to 
realize the highest price possible. 

“From the general outline which Thompson gave me 
in his last advice, I believe that with a strong pull and a 
long pull and a pull all together’ you can bring the matter 
through successfully. You yourself are personally in- 
terested in this stock and you thought me liberal after 
the success of your last trip. See that our interests do 
not suffer and you will have no cause for regret. You 
have your code and can reach me privately any hour, but 
rely on yourself. Tell them in council not to stick at 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

trifles, not to be over-scrupulous and to remember 
that the Bible warns us against being too religious ! 

“Now, and this more particularly concerns you, Mr. 
Molson, we shall have to foreclose on about twelve or 
fifteen farms and nearly as many city properties. I learn 
you are going to spend next Sunday with the Williams’ 
family, which just suits my purpose. Fine old family, 
healthy, happy and sound as a nut morally, noble princi- 
ples there, sir, as you know of course. I shall trouble 
you to take my written instructions out to Mr. Williams. 
I don’t think I told you Mr. Williams has been my 
personal friend for years and my agent with the farm- 
ers. 

“I have given him full instructions as to the foreclo- 
sures there. He won’t like to do it — he’s as tender- 
hearted as a child — no courage whatever when it comes to 
grasping his own. If he thinks another needs what he 
has a claim to, he will actually go without his due. Very 
fine as moral sentiment; very poor as business. Now, 
Mr. Molson, you must stiffen up his courage a little 
in this work and just say to honest John Eben that in 
this forclosure campaign ‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth 
to do, do it with thy might.’ I always quote him that 
scripture when I want him to put the screws on. Tell 
him to give them until Oct. 15th and if he sees fit, to ex- 
tend it to Nov. 1st, but not an hour after,” and Mr. 
Ashton’s hand came down upon the table with a ring- 
ing blow and that hard look of wicked avarice came over 
his face which made it seem almost demoniacal? 

“Now I am going to hand over the city mortgages 
which are overdue to Baggs and Baker. They will rush 
them through in short order and without any sickly 
sentiment about it. There’s one, however, that fortu- 
nately is right in your end of the town, the Perkins 
mortgage which has been running at loose end altogether 
too long, and I thought you would consent to a little extra 
labor, seeing the plight we are in, and call over some 
evening this week and say to Mrs. Perkins that that $500 
must be paid forthwith — say in two weeks or out they go. 
She’s been dawdling along a few dollars a month for years, 
and while I would like to help her, and have done so in 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the past, I cannot and will not support the town. I must 
have my money now, you will give her my message 
straight.’' 

Then turning to Parish, while that horrid look of 
the miser overspread his face, he said with a smile of 
exultation, “What do you think our average rate of in- 
terest from the loans to farmers was last year? You 
know we do not loan to them direct but Baggs and 
Baker use our money and give us half. Why it as an 
even 30 per cent. We are silent partners, you know. 
But I forgot, Mr. Molson, of course, does not under- 
stand this.” 

And turning to me particularly he went on, “You 
see successful business, sir, is not based on the golden 
rule. We reap our harvest from the straits and neces- 
sities of the farmers in the spring time. There is, of 
course, some popular prejudice against money lenders 
who charge and get a high rate of interest from the 
farmers in spring. But we avoid that easily by making 
Baggs & Baker our agents, and they know how to get 
the last cent in a man’s pocket book. If we did openly 
what they did — charge the farmers from two to five per 
cent a month for money for seed grain — it would injure 
us with our city trade, so deep are human prejudices. The 
so-called respectable classes, some of the upper tendom, 
would be shocked. Mrs. Grundy would talk and we 
should suffer, if they knew we were mixed up with any 
shark methods of fleecing the farmers. 

“But there are men specially fitted for this work, 
faces of steel, hearts of flint, no consciences but a rub- 
ber cord instead that will stretch around anything, and 
they are only too glad to have us as silent partners, fur- 
nish the cash and divide with us the profits. Why, old 
Hewitt got five per cent, a month regularly, interest some- 
times in advance. He knows how to bait and angle for 
the highest interest as truly as the trout catcher does 
for his wily nibbler. 

“Here is his method,” continued Mr. Ashton, lean- 
ing back in his chair and seemingly talking to some un- 
seen auditors, while he rubbed his hands rapidly over one 
another, and looked the living embodiment of covete- 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


ousness and avarice: “A farmer comes around to Hew- 
itt in spring in great need of money. He wants it to 
secure provender for his stock, bread or clothing for his 
family and especially for seed grain (this is our harvest 
time with the farmers.) Mr. Hewitt is very sorry — 
least he says he is — he has just loaned the last hundred 
dollars. Can the farmer call again? The next week 
the farmer is there in sorer straits than ever. Hewitt 
hasn’t a dollar. But stay! Perhaps he can borrow it. If 
so, it will be from some imaginary miser who will not 
loan it for less than from 3 to 5 per cent a month. They 
all have the same method. They get their own terms 
practically, and we, silent partners, have to be content 
with half. It is money against skill. An equal partner- 
ship, a fair deal, and the money rolls in pretty fast, 
gentlemen, pretty fast, I tell you.” 

I looked at him in the blankest amazement Jind dread. 
Such a revelation of unblushing cupidity, such brazen 
confession of his own inhumanity, such satanic glee over 
money coined sometimes out of the needs and anguish of 
human hearts, made me cower before him as before a 
moral monstrosity! 

Stunned as by a blow, I could feel the growing pallor 
of my cheeks, as I reeled rather than walked from that 
diabolical conference^ 

Of one thing I am sure. If I had not given my as- 
sent to the mission to Mrs. Perkins before I had heard 
the story of dealings with the farmers, I would never 
have undertaken it. Now my soul revolted at the task. 

And what astonished me as much as the revelations 
of Mark Ashton’s inhumanity was the fact that Parish 
sat there, an interested, and for aught I could see, a 
sympathetic listener, and doubtless a partner in these 
nefarious doings. 

And what shall I say of John Eben Williams? I will 
never believe him a willing partner in any deception, or 
in any sense an accomplice either in the work ot ex- 
tortions from the farmers or in treating inhumanely any 
of his fellows. I would stake my life upon his honor 
and goodness. 

Alas! life’s revelations^ are coming thick and fast 
116 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


upon me. I am afraid I shall one day, and soon, cast 
aside the rosy optimism with which Mrs. Williams taught 
me to view humanity 1 


Sept. 1 8 th, 1 8 — . 

I called on Mrs. Perkins who is a widow with three 
beautiful children, and far from strong in health. I 
never had a more unwelcome task. I am sure now if 
Mark Ashton approached me with a similar request what 
answer I would give him. Even before I called upon 
Mrs. Perkins I had begun to loathe Mark Ashton, the 
miser, and ever since the conference with the widow that 
night, my horror of the man’s principles has increased. It 
was only his adroitness and wordy skill at the beginning 
of that conference with Parish and myself, and per- 
haps his little affabilities to me before that night, which 
induced me to assent to undertake what makes me in a 
sense his accomplice in a very inhuman act. But I 
must put it down as it occurred. I did what I had been 
ordered to, faithfully and without circumlocution, and I 
saw the delicate little mother tremble beneath the threats 
I uttered in Mark Ashton’s name. She bore up bravely 
and began to tell me about herself and her husband. 

“You see, sir,” she began, with little occasional 
catches in her breath, “I have not been very strong since 
my husband’s death six years ago and I suppose I should 
have given up this place, this dear little cottage home. But 
it had grown so precious to us all, and made doubly dear 
to me because my husband took such interest in the 
place. He built the fence and made the flower beds 
and when he passed away it seemed as though every spot 
in the yard and grounds and cottage was full of sweet 
memories of Arthur. 

“I know had he lived he never would have parted with 
our little home. And then, all our children were born 
here and it was here Arthur sickened and died. We 
moved his cot over against the window there so he 
might see the flowers in the morning and there 
one morning in June he breathed his last.” She paused 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

and I hardly dared to trust myself to look upon her face, 
yet did and saw the gathering storm — not of anger but 
of sorrow — in her eyes and soon with its flood of tears 
it swept over her. Her self-restraint was gone and the 
storm caught her up in its fury, in its wild gusts of grief 
and shook her with its fierce passion as the tornado 
shakes the helpless child caught in its great arms. Her 
sobs of grief pierced my soul. I felt myself a sinner 
justly condemned and punished for the cruel message 
I had delivered. 

It was to me unspeakably sad to witness the grief 
of that delicate little mother, helpless as she was, sitting 
with her three children looking up with wonder into 
her face. I never could look upon suifering unmoved and 
this scene moved me profoundly. 

She soon rallied herself, however, wiped away all 
traces of her agitation, and yet with an occasional sob 
in her voice begged my pardon for her lack of self-con- 
trol and for intruding her grief upon a stranger, and 
said she did not blame Mr. Ashton. He had a right to 
his money and she would give up the place peaceably at 
the time appointed. “But,” she continued, “why you, 
yourself, are suifering, sir. I thank your for your sym- 
pathy. I knew when you were telling me that I must 
leave that your heart was not in the message. I do not 
in any way blame you, nor any one, sir, but I am 
thankful for your kind heart.” 

“God bless you,” I said, “for that,” and I left in a 
strange agitation of soul. 

Next morning I schooled myself into composure, went 
to the library and told him the story. I think I grew 
eloquent over the brave-hearted little defender of her 
home, struggling with sickness and poverty to preserve 
the little cottage, sanctified by the mutual toil of husband 
and wife and enshrined in her heart as the birth-place 
of her children and the place where her husband breathed 
his last. 

“And now,” I said, “Mr. Ashton you are a man of 
great wealth, you will not have the heart to take away 
Mrs. Perkins’ little home from her.” 

“Very noble sentiments — very beautiful sentiments! 

ii8 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


They do you great credit from the moral point of view’' 
said Mr. Ashton. “But they are utterly irreconcilable 
with correct and successful business procedure — I shall 
have to have the house or the money” he said sternly. 
“She has had years in which to pay up since I bought 
the mortgage, and I don’t know how long before, plenty of 
time. I am not bound to furnish houses for all the 
widows, if I have wealth. No, no, Mr. Molson, the 
sentiment is beautiful and I can admire it with you and, 
as a bit of stereotyped morality, mercy is a beautiful and 
noble thing. /Virtue is its own reward,’ ‘Pity the unfor- 
tunate,’ ‘The quality of mercy is not strained’ etc., etc. 
All this copy-book morality I am familiar with from my 
youth up. There is not sixpence in it all. You are a 
young man, Mr. Molson, and have yet to get acquainted 
with business rules and usages. It is unfortunate that 
you are ignorant of correct business maxims. It is quite 
pardonable, however. But, my dear Mr. Molson, don’t 
you see that a man wouid never grow to be a rich man, 
much less amass a colossal fortune, who allowed his senti- 
ments to run away with his pocketbook. A cool head that 
knows how to repress and smother out these disturbing 
feelings is absolutely necessary to the business man. I 
am, I say it humbly, advancing in my knowledge and 
practice of the true principles of business success. Why, 
twenty years ago, it would have been just like me to 
give that woman more time, perhaps to cancel her in- 
terest and make her a donation. But not now, no sir, 
she must pay up or move.” 

“It is inhuman in you, merciless and cruel,” I said 
hotly,. “I would rather beg my bread than get millions by 
your correct business principles and utter disregard of 
the poor and unfortunate.” 

“Precisely what I used to think and say,” he remarked 
cooly. 

“You see,” he went on “a man to be a great success 
financially must have an iron will .” 

“An iron heart, too,” I said bitterly. 

“Precisely,” said Mr. Ashton, “you could not have 
presented my views better than in those very words. An 
iron heart that is what a man needs who wants to run 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


his bank account into the millions,” and he rubbed his 
hands joyously I thought, as the demon avarice trans- 
figured his dark features. 

“Mr. Ashton,” I cried, “your business is your own. 
I have no right to give advice, much less to dictate. But 
understand that on the day you dispossess Mrs. Perkins 
of her little home, I leave your service. You can, of 
course, do well without me. I am not at all necessary 
to the great Banker — ^but I will serve under no man, how- 
ever rich or great, who can do so dastardly a deed as 
that!” 

He sprang to his feet as though an electric shock haa 
passed through him, his face irradiated, then paced the 
floor a moment and stood at his full height towering 
above me, looking at me, his soul shining out of his greai 
eyes and it was many seconds before he spoke. I was 
puzzled again by this strange man, for though I now 
knew that it was anger at my bold words that had sent 
the glow over his face, it was an anger that did not dis- 
tort but rather glorified his face, for his countenance 
changed under it from the picture of greed and miserli- 
ness to one of open and manly benevolence. I was non- 
plussed, bewildered and utterly at a loss to account for 
his strange words and stranger looks. 

When he spoke again it was with a subdued calm- 
ness and even gentleness of manner. 

“Why, Mr. Molson, do you mean me to understand 
that for a foolish bit of sentiment like that which you 
have expressed you could give up your present position, 
your prospective advancement, and sacrifice all that our 
bank and our influence could do for you. Well! Well! 
Well! 

“We are two stubborn ones, well met. I am going 
to have that house or the money by the time stated. I 
don’t blame you — young men are ardent. You are young 
and inexperienced. I even admire your courage but you 
are very unbusinesslike in your views. I shall be sorry 
to lose you, but if I must, I must. I presume things 
will run on the same as usual until I take possession of 
the Perkins’ house.” 


120 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Most certainly,’^ I said and so ended by interview 
with the Banker. 


Oct. 4th, 1 8 — . 

Things have gone on smoothly the past week or two. 
The Banker treats me with studious politeness and shows 
no signs — whatever he may feel — of resentment over my 
plain speech. 

I have been looking on the quiet for another situa- 
tion and, if my class were only larger, I would devote 
myself fully to my music. It is a pity I have to follow 
business at all — my heart is not in it. 

I fully expected after my hot interview with the 
Banker concerning Mrs. Perkins’ case, to have been away 
from Mark Ashton’s bank ere this and would have been 
but for the occurrence of a strange event just two nights 
ago. 

It seems that Mrs. Perkins’ sad case became widely 

known through W e and stirred up consideraDie 

healthy indignation against the Banker. This did not, 
however, seem to deter him in the least as I heard him 
^announcing to Parish just the night before the two weeks 
notice expired, that he would have possession of the 
place next day or have the cash. I really do not know 
how the report of the case got published as I gave no one 
the story and" Mrs. Perkins, modest little body as she is, 
made no complaint in my presence against Mark Ashton 
and even seemed to feel she had wronged him in not pay- 
ing up the mortgage. I feel sure she never made the 
matter public. Probably her friends learned she was go- 
ing to move and drew their conclusions from it. It seems 
she has many kind friends and admirers for one in 
humble life. The facts of the case seemed to have 
reached some charitable heart, for relief came to her in 
a most unexpected, even in a mysterious way. 

She had been for several days busily packing and on 
the night before her intended removal, having finishea 
her work, sat down early in the evening with her young- 
est child upon her knee, and her two other children play- 
ing at her feet, to spend as happily as she could the last 

I2I 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


evening in her dear little cottage home. There was a 
great pain at her heart but she was trying to make hei 
children as happy as possible the last night she was to 
abide in that place so sacred to her, the dearest spot on 
all the earth. It was a cloudy night and a drizzling rain 
was falling and nothing was further from her thoughts 
than that she should have a visitor much less that a 
stranger should call upon her on such a night. 

There came a hasty rap at the door and, opening it, 
a lady, closely veiled, asked permission to speak to her a 
moment. On entering and being shown a seat she said : 

‘T have reasons of my own for not wishing you to 
know who I am. Suffice it to say, I am a friend. Some 
day, perhaps, I may tell you who I am, but not now. I 
have come on a friendly mission and I want you, in return 
for my friendship, to make no efforts to find out my name. 
You need not leave your home. I have brought you sui- 
ficient money to pay your debt and the balance you are 
to put in the bank for future need. Be of good cheer,” 
and laying a roll of bills on the table she put her arms 
around the speechless woman, lifted her veil just a 
little and kissed her, kissed each of the children and with 
a fervent “God bless you” was gone. 

The bills were of various banks and denominations 
and it was found impossible to get any clue from the 
money to the unknown benefactor. 

Next day Mrs. Perkins paid off her debt to Mark 
Ashton and wrote a brief but very expressive note of 
thanks to her unknown benefactor which appeared in 
all our daily papers. 


Oct. 5 th, i 8 — . 

Everybody is on the alert to find out, if possible, who 
is the donor of that $1000 — for that was the full amount 
given — to Mrs. Perkins. Some have proposed to set The 
police on the trail to solve, if possible, the mystery. Mrs. 
Perkins promptly prohibited this by saying: “It would 
be a poor return for the lady’s generosity to force her 
to disclose her identity. No, anxious as I am to know, 
and see her face to face and give her my blessing, I 


122 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


will make no efforts to find her out and I wish no efforts 
made in my behalf. When she is disposed, if ever, to 
reveal her identity, I will then be doubly her debtor.” 

And so the matter rests as far as active investigation 
is concerned, but rumor has already credited the bene- 
faction to a dozen or more charitable ladies, most of 
whom have already disclaimed it. 

Mark Ashton has never alluded to the subject in my 
presence, but I am glad he knows what I think of his 
inhuman greed. 


Oct. 6th, 1 8 — . 

I am treated with studied respect at the bank. We 
have had no more conferences. Perhaps the Banker is 
ashamed of his barbarity. I trust so. 

Last evening, as I was leaving the bank, after one 
or two casual remarks, Mr. Ashton said: 

“I have been charged by my daughters to see you and 
invite you to spend an evening with us and a few friends 
next week. The affair is altogether informal — just a 
lady and gentleman besides ourselves, and they are to 
have an evening with Mendelssohn. I think we all want 
to remove the unfavorable impression you must have re- 
ceived of us on the night of the musicale. 

“Will you come — and be sure and bring your violin 
along? Oh, yes, what a poor memory I am getting ! You 
are to bring Mr. Williams with you, if he can come.” 

I thanked him and assented, providing Mr. Williams 
was free from engagement. 

Then it is clear the Banker has forgiven me. I hope 
there will be no cheque offered this time. 

Oct. nth, 1 8 — . 

I must confess to one of the most delightful evenings 
of my life at Ashton Hall last night. Youth, beauty, 
music, flowers, wit and humor, genius, cordial welcome 
— and all this in a home of wealth and with people of 
refinement. 

Mark Ashton is a prince among entertainers — a 
totally different man in the drawing room from the Mark 


123 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Ashton in the office. I looked at him last evening, with 
his face beaming with good nature, his eye sparkling with 
merriment, his whole being radiating kindness and sym- 
pathy and happiness and I asked myself, is it possible 
that is the man I saw a few nights since with the sordid 
look of a miser, gleefully chuckling over the robbery of 
poor farmers and the turning out of a widow and help- 
less children into the street? 

As host he has in stock a fund of geniality, courtesy, 
good humor, sparkling anecdote and epigram, and makes 
his guests so thoroughly at home, one can only wonder 
who is the real man — the one you see thus in his home 
or the unmerciful Mark Ashton of the office, or the miser 
Mark Ashton of his public reputation. 

And the young ladies — each charming in her own 
way — were very kind and seemed anxious that each of 
the guests should have a full evening of enjoyment. 

For the first time I heard Miss Ashton play, and all 
that has been said of her as a brilliant performer on the 
piano is true and much might be added. There is — 
what I did not expect to find — a soul in her music. She 
loses herself in its movement. The iciness and chill you 
feel in her presence as a social leader, are lost in the 
Helena Ashton at the piano with Mendelssohn before 
her. She enters with a will into the theme of the music 
and seems swallowed up in the depths and currents of 
the more passionate parts, so that for a time her normal 
personality seems lost and only reappears as the music 
ceases. Her face is a study during her performance at 
the piano. You see as on a screen in moving pictures 
the poetry and passion of the music portrayed. 

She is not a great musician, has many faults of tech- 
nique, and in some passages lacks that power of true in- 
terpretation which belongs always to the great artists, 
but I have never heard a pianist who was more at one 
with her music as far as she has grasped its subtle mean- 
ing, or one in whom music was more thoroughly incar- 
nated for the time being than Miss Ashton. She has 
great possibilities before her as a musician — especially if 
some of life’s deeper experiences awaken the diviner 
sympathies and qualities of her spiritual nature. 


124 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


As I have said, Miss Ashton is, while playing her fav- 
orite compositions, surrounded by a warmer atmosphere 
of human feeling and sympathy than in the social circle ; 
yet there is still, to an observer, a sense of deficiency, a 
somewhat painful impression of something lacking, de- 
spite all her charms and brilliancy — 3, something about 
her, something within her, still wanting, or at least dor- 
mant and waiting the new life of the springtime yet to 
come. 

I never fail when seeing her to think of the beautiful 
marble form, cold and lifeless, and to wonder if her 
higher soul will waken some day into life. 

Miss Lucille has a soft and flexible voice which you 
hear with unmingled pleasure. She attempts as yet nothing 
as difficult as Miss Ashton, but her work, while not win- 
ning so much admiration with the hearer, leaves a more 
permanent sense of satisfaction and pleasure. I caught 
myself several times while she was singing thinking of 
dear Mrs. Williams and my good-time friends there — 
just as in Mrs. Williams’ presence I have often felt an 
inner sense as of loving friends from bygone years about 
me. It is a peculiar experience and I mean to study it 
and, if possible, find its interpretation. 

I have almost left Herbert out of consideration, yet 
he was a most important factor in the evening’s enjoy- 
ment. He sings a delightful solo and he sang last night 
to very appreciative hearers. Many a peal of laughter 
greeted his wit, and in fact he monopolized the favors 
of the evening — I suppose I never will shine as a conver- 
sationalist — until the music engaged our attention. 

We did not confine ourselves to Mendelssohn, for 
Miss Ashton and I played Mozart’s Sonata in B flat 
minor for piano and violin. I played only one solo of 
any importance. 

The wild rhythm of the “Gipsy Dance” seemed to 
please my hearers, and I then amused them for a time 
with imitations of bird notes and some variations of my 
own on old familiar airs. As I was playing “Home, 
Sweet Home” with my own variations, at Mark Ashton’s 
special request, his face twice gleaming in rapid succes- 


125 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

sion as if internal flashes of light spread over it, he arose 
and walked hastily into the library. 

This peculiar light cannot always mean anger. Per- 
haps it is any very strong mental or emotional excite- 
ment. 

One pleasing thing about the evening’s enjoyment was 
this — the people of Ashton Hall seemed as unrestrained- 
ly happy as their guests. 


Oct. 14th, 18 — . 

I have a new pupil. Helena Ashton is determined to 
add to her many accomplishments that of violin playing, 
and I have been appointed her instructor. 

I have warned her faithfully that even a partial mas- 
tery of the wonderful instrument is no easy task, and a 
much more difflcult undertaking to one like herself whose 
time is so fully monopolized with social engagements and 
her daily piano practice. She will hear of no objections. 
Of course, she is the only one to be consulted as it is 
well understood that her rule in Ashton Hall is absolute, 
her pleasure in regard to herself is her only law, and so 
the experiment is to be tried. I am not at all sanguine 
of success — not that I doubt her ability — but the condi- 
tions are such as to imply many interruptions, and violin 
playing is a matter of many years of faithful practice 
even to those having natural talent for it — and I have 
premonitions I shall not long remain in W e. 

‘T have but one request to make,” said she, when we 
were discussing terms and fixing hours, ‘'and that is that 
you will be a merciless critic and at the end of the term 
if you think I have no prospect of becoming a creditable 
performer on the violin, you will tell me so candidly and 
I will not pursue it farther.” 

To this I agreed, and so it was arranged; I am to 
give her three lessons per week. 

The evening Mr. Ashton spoke to me about it, pleas- 
antly enough, I could see he had something more he 
wished to say, but hardly had settled in his mind the best 
way of saying it. He asked my opinion of her as a 


126 


The Mystery of Ashton Hali 


musician, of her prospects of success with the violin, and 
then continued: 

, “I am very glad it has fallen to your lot to become 
her teacher, not only from your knowledge and skill as 
a musician, but also because you are not likely, as some 
young men would be, to forget the clear distinctions of 
society, nor to presume in any way upon your position. 
The position of private tutor to an heiress, I need hardly 
say, is one that involves great trust and confidence upon 
the part of the head of the house. Many, I fear, in your 
position would forget that they entered Ashton Hall 
solely as a teacher; I am sure Mr. Molson is not among 
their number.’^ 

I replied with some ardor, ‘T am not apt to forget the 
distance socially between a young musician like myself, 
struggling with poverty, and the heiress of Ashton Hall. 
And if I were disposed to forget such painful topics, 
there are those who will not permit me to forget them.” 

“I meant no offense, whatever,” said Mr. Ashton. 
“I said what I did with the kindest intent. Young blood 
is hot and impatient, but some day you will bear more 
patiently the well-meant admonitions of those much 
older than yourself. I do not blame you, however, for 
your free style of speaking.” 


Oct. 17th, 18 — . 

I do not disguise from myself the fact that my pupil 
at Ashton Hall monopolizes more of my thought and 
attention than any one pupil should. Why this should 
be so is somewhat difficult to say. Possibly because she 
is the most prominent socially, or the most advanced 

pupil of my class, or the most beautiful lady in W e. 

It seems the stranger that I should give her so much 
thought and — as I see from looking over my diary — so 
much attention in my written reflections, as from the 
very first I have felt a very decided impression of her 
deficiencies, her inferiority in many ways to her sister 
Lucille, and the more especially as I have a deep con- 
tempt for the artificialities, hypocrisies, and hollow mock- 


127 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

ery of that fashionable world in which she lives, moves 
and has her being. 

Probably it is because she suggests a problem to the 
mind, an enigma to be solved, and the riddle seems to be 
this: How can such physical perfection be associated 
with a spiritual nature largely dead, or at least dormant? 
But I will not philosophize. 

One thing I am determined on since the first even- 
ing’s bitter experience at Ashton Hall, and especially since 
Mr. Ashton’s candid statement a few nights ago, and it 
is this : I shall guard the citadel of my thoughts against 
even her physical charms. I feel very sure I need never 
guard my heart, for my heart could never be disturbed 
seriously by one so palpably deficient — as I know she is 
— in the diviner qualities of true womanhood, such as 
human sympathy and true spirituality. 

No; I shall leave Mr. Molson, the man, the creature 
of flesh and blood, in the hall along with my hat and 
gloves and cane, and only Mr. Molson the teacher shall 
enter the drawing room of Ashton Hall. 

Oct. 1 8th, 1 8 — . 

I have hesitated before attempting any description of 
to-day’s experience because I realize I cannot put into 
words or imprint on the cold page of paper what the 
mind enjoys and the heart feels so exquisitely. I hesi- 
tate still to attempt an account of experiences in which 
every moment seemed jeweled with a joy. 

The Record of a Perfect Day. 

Were I to select out of all the days memory holds 
dear and sacred, this I should choose as the happiest of 
my life. The delightful air and sunshine, charming 
social enjoyment, pleasing landscape, and flow of 
thought and emotion through all its hours made the day 
a perfect one. 

I wonder if there are good and evil days. My col- 
lege chum at Leipsic used to say so, but he is an astrolo- 
ger and believes that the planets by their conjunctions or 


128 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


opposition bless or injure us. He declares that some 
days we catch harmonious vibrations and some days, dis- 
cordant ones ; that some days the good angels get nearer 
us than ordinarily, and then we are unaccountably happy, 
life is a song of joy, the birds sing more sweetly than 
usual, the flowers are more fragrant, the faces and voices 
of our friends are more beautiful and enjoyable; and 
some days the vibrations of life are full of jars and dis- 
cords. 

I awoke with a merry, hopeful feeling. Life seemed 
sweet, the earth was beautiful, men and women seemed 
good and lovable creatures, evil in the world was a van- 
ishing and negligible quantity, and what is stranger, my 
usual sense of loneliness was gone. I felt I had many 
friends, good and true, and no enemies, and if there were 
difficulties in my path, well, I could and would overcome 
them. So I felt all the morning. 

The atmosphere was exhilarating, cool and balmy as 
the ordinary October weather. Everybody, too, looked 
better and more cheerful than usual. 

I really fancied that Mark Ashton looked like a saint 
as I saw him enter the bank, and even Parish had a glow 
of spirituality in his face. Query: Were their faces really 
different to me or did I see them through a spiritual light 
suffused about myself? I have a theory that every hu- 
man being shines as a light in the spiritual universe and 
that sometimes our light is brighter than at other times 
and everything we see is suffused with our own soul 
glow. 

I had not been long in the office at work before I was 
favored with two visitors. Miss Ashton and Miss Lu- 
cille. They came in with pretty apologies for trespass- 
ing, but evidently in a very jolly mood and as Miss Lu- 
cille said, to ask a favor, and when once inside, each 
looked to the other to state the nature of the request. 

There was a somewhat awkward pause for a moment 
and then both burst into a merry bit of laughter. I am 
usually very sensitive and ordinarily would have felt 
much inclined to demand an explanation but my high 
spirits and the atmosphere of mirth they brought with 


129 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

them, set me to laughing before I knew the cause of their 
glee. 

“We have had a serious quarrel, Mr. Molson,’’ said 
Helena. 

“Yes, I observe you are very angry with each other,’' 
I replied. 

“We quarreled about you, too,” said Miss Lucille 
with a merry twinkle in her eye. “I think Helena is a 
very mean sister to shirk her duty like this. She promised 
if I would start to tell you of our troubles she would fin- 
ish, and here she is backing out in a most cowardly way.” 

“I am afraid if you come asking for sympathy or 
aid, you will have to present more rueful countenances 
than you do. You are a pretty pair of beggars or a pair 
of pretty beggars — now aren’t you?” I said joining in 
the fun. 

They both bowed low in mock acknowledgement of 
the compliment. 

“Mr. Molson,” said Miss Ashton, “we are in difficulty. 
For over a week we have been planning our little family 
picnic — an annual affair — to Chestnut Island in the river 
which Mr. Ashton owns and where, as you know, we have 
a summer cottage. Mr. Ashton always takes us in a 
boat and prefers to do his own rowing rather than be 
bothered with a boatman. After we got all our ar- 
rangements made, Lucille had herself prepared the 
chicken salad and biscuits and I had made the cake 
(for you know in our yearly picnic we do our own 
cooking, wait on ourselves and allow no one but a mem- 
ber of the family to be present) Mr. Ashton dashed all 
our hopes to earth again by telling us that a New York 
broker had just telegraphed him to be at his office with- 
out fail. He cannot go. So we come, on his suggestion, 
to make our appeal to you and beg your knightly aid.” 

“It is as boatman, I presume, you wish to engage me,” 
I asked. 

“Oh, no, you are to be official representative of Mark 
Ashton Banking Co. and guard the life and fortune of 
two princesses and high honors and rewards await the 
successful performance of your duties.” 


130 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


'‘And pray what rewards for such heavy responsibil- 
ity?” I asked. 

“You are to preside at the royal festivities on Chest- 
nut Island, share the royal lunch basket, and receive a 
royal vote of thanks.” 

“Agreed,” I said and in half an hour we were off. 
It was a short but delightful pull to the island and by 
ten o’clock our lunch baskets were safely stowed away in 
“Rest Cottage” and we had started to explore the island 
of about six acres. It was covered, as the name implies, 
with an abundant growth of chestnut trees and a suffi- 
ciency of other timber to afford ample shade, leaving 
here and there an open space and some greensward for 
picnic grounds and games. There are some lovely walks 
about the shores, a commodious boat-house, and near the 
boat-house is “Rose Arbor” covered with honeysuckle and 
clematis and other flowering plants. “Rest Cottage,” 
nicely situated on a hillock near the shore, was amply 
supplied for a summer residence — though the Banker has 
generally been too busy to enjoy its cooling shade and 
fine prospect. An extended view of the country was vis- 
ible to the west but on the north and east the hills and 
cliffs surrounding the bends of the river shut out the 
prospect. We were the only inhabitants of the island at 
the time. 

We spent a couple of hours in rambling aimlessly 
about the island, explored the cavern on the east side, 
gathered nuts from the hickory trees and ferns from the 
lowlands, and thoroughly succeeded, I think, in becom- 
ing children again. 

It seemed to me I had never seen these young ladies 
before — so entirely had they thrown off the restraints and 
conventionalities of Ashton Hall, so merry in mood, so 
versatile in conversation, so determined to be happy for 
the day and make me happy as their companion. They 
laughed, chatted and joked each other incessantly, and 
I, in turn, came in for a fair share of their banter, and it 
seemed to me ere night had come they had transformed 
themselves into a score or more of different characters. 
From grave to gay, from lively to severe, from religion 
to politics, from fun to philosophy, from life to death. 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


from orthodoxy to agnosticism, the flow of talk never 
ceased, except during our impromptu entertainment in 
Rest Cottage. 

I myself was transformed — whether it was the at- 
mosphere that intoxicated me, or whether it was the joy 
of coming into touch with nature again after imprison- 
ment in the office, or whether it was the influence of the 
stars, or whether I caught the infection of their good hu- 
mor and wit and was for a time bewitched by two faces 
each lovely in its way and by two personalities each 
more interesting from the other’s presence, or by a. com- 
bination of all of these, I cannot say. I was another 
character that day. 

I lost my native timidity and restraint. I was always 
much repressed by others — except when the inspiration of 
music was upon me — ^but here I felt liberated and in- 
spired and had a gift of expression and a power of en- 
joyment, that seemed to me then — and ever since — as a 
most exceptional experience. 

We next spent about an hour in the .Rose Arbor rest- 
ing and enjoying the sight of the flowing river on which 
the bright sunshine was dancing in countless images of 
sparkling light and listening to its low undertones of 
melody, and to the birds chirping away in the branches 
which were fast loosing their heavy summer foliage, and 
to the squirrels chattering over their gathered nuts for 
the winter. One of these — a red squirrel, came circling 
down a tree to where Miss Lucille sat — a few feet at a 
time — exploring with eager eyes our party as we sat in 
full view, and creeping nearer and nearer until he was 
only some eight or ten feet away. Here he stationed him- 
self to take a more deliberate look and seemed to be sat- 
isfied of our pacific intentions yet, after one or two at- 
tempts to draw a little closer, hesitated. Miss Lucille in- 
terpreted his thoughts for us: “So you like us, Mr. Red 
Squirrel, you like us, but you don’t fully trust us. You 
think discretion the better part of valor. You feel you 
wish to know more of our history, of our antecedents, of 
our views on the mutual relations of man and his fellow 
animals. Well, the best way to learn about us — the best 
way for men to learn about each other — is to trust. Yes, 


132 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of course, there’s danger in it — but less danger than in 
suspicion.” 

She stopped. The squirrel had cunningly turned his 
head to one side as if to catch every word. He seemed 
to like her sweet soft voice and to increase his confidence 
in the company for he ventured further and leaped nimbly 
over on the end of our bench and sat up with his paws 
gracefully bent down, his bright eye sparkling with in- 
terest and pleasure, his sleek coat shining and his large 
bushy tail curved over his head. 

A sudden inspiration seized Lucille. “Wait,” said she 
“Fll capture him. I know how to tempt squirrels and 
children.” She went back to the cottage and got some bis- 
cuits, came back and scattered crumbs along the bench — 
from which the squirrel had retreated for a time — and 
in her hand she had a pole on the end of which was a 
netted bag used for catching minnows for baiting larger 
fish. The pole she extended along the bench retaining 
one end in her hand and then seated herself and began 
talking again to Mr. Bright Eyes, who was eyeing every 
movement from his safe retreat on the side of the tree. 
He answered with a friendly chirp and thus the conver- 
sation went on for a few minutes — Bright Eyes ventur- 
ing nearer and still nearer to his old position, paused a 
moment as before and then took the final leap landing 
on the end of the bench. He picked up in teeth and paw 
the first bit of biscuit — sat erect, ate it quickly and ad- 
vanced to the second. This was the last available until 
he had passed the netted bag lying on one side of the 
bench. This he eyed curiously for a moment — turned 
his gaze again on the path of biscuit chips — and was lost. 

He leaped past the bag, seized another bit of the bis- 
cuit, ate it ravenously and with evident enjoyment. 

“So you approve my make of biscuits,” said Miss Lu- 
cille, “so we may quote you as endorsing my brand as 
the very best on the market — Beware! Beware! — greed 
and appetite have led many a one to his doom. Beware, 
young man, I’m fooling you, beware ! Take care !” She 
moved her hand and Bright Eyes, frightened, swiftly 
turned and leaped into the expanded mouth of the net. 


133 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“Oh the deceitful ways of women. I’ll never trust 
another,” I said in pretended horror of her crime. 

“Oh the folly and wilful blindness of the men. 
They cannot resist temptation. They leap right into the 
net before their eyes — and that after being warned re- 
peatedly!” she replied. 

“This is a moral drawn for your instruction — a sort 
of acted parable. Now what does it teach, think you, Mr. 
Molson?” 

“It says, ‘beware of women bestowing favors,’ ” I re- 
plied. 

“Nothing of the kind,” said she. “It simply says, 
‘Look before you leap !’ See our unhappy captive.” 

“Happier than I am,” I replied, “for he has had his 
dinner.” 

This brought forth a chorus of laughter and Miss 
Helena said: “You poor, starved boatman and woodman 
and banker and knight errant, all in one, you shall have 
a dinner fit for the gods. Come to the banqueting hall.” 
She led the way. 

And while I enjoyed the Chickering piano in the sit- 
ting room they donned their aprons, busied themselves 
with the coming meal. Miss Lucille presided over the 
kitchen and lighted the fires, warmed the viands, made 
the coffee, while Helena, as I could see from my seat at 
the piano, opened the hampers, set the table, spread the 
snowy napery upon it, arranged the ferns we had gathered 
into table ornaments, and wove three chaplets of maple 
leaves we had gathered — painted by the Frost King into 
tints of green and gold and saffron and amber and red — 
and laid them by the three plates. 

When the bell rang and I came out we had before us, 
not a full course dinner, but such a royal luncheon as 
will at once satisfy hunger and please the esthetic taste 
by the variety and delicacy of its viands. 

There were warm biscuits, chicken and other salads, 
jellies and custards, olives and grapes and most delicious 
coffee and a bottle of homie-made wine. 

“It was a whim of Papa Ashton’s,” said Miss Helena 
“to institute these family picnics and to have no one out- 
side the family assist us. Every dish Lucille and I have 


134 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


prepared, the wine is home made — so be careful how you 
criticise the cookery. Cooks are violent tempered. Be- 
ware, sir!” she said with warning glance. “You are the 
first stranger ever admitted into our family picnic.” 

“I congratulate myself a thousand times !” I said. 

“And you must abide by family rules. Put on your 
chaplet, sir,” and she handed me my leafy crown which 
I donned with mock gravity. 

Both the young ladies unloosed their tresses and en- 
circled their brows with the maple leaves explaining it 
was their custom so to do, and I must confess they 
made pretty pictures. It was to me a most enjoyable 
banquet, chiefly for the perfectly harmonious feeling I 
experienced and the charm, both of the presence and 
speech of these two beautiful women, who were always 
seen to best advantage together and certainly today they 
were at their best. They were simply attired as be- 
fitted the occasion but this only added to the beauty of 
both face and figure in my estimation as there was noth- 
ing to detract from their personal charms of form and 
manner and speech. 

After the meal was over we gathered in the sitting 
room, where the piano and my violin absorbed attention 
for a time. Miss Helena reclined amidst the cushions 
of the sofa, her head resting on her arm and her face 
turned toward us, and her long dark tresses unconfined. 
Miss Lucille got a low stool and sat near her while I 
played a favorite sonata from Schubert. 

“What shall we do this afternoon ?” I asked. 

“We have always had an impromptu program among 
ourselves,” said Lucille, “ and I am mistress of ceremonies 
here. ‘Let’s pretend’ as the school children say. Master 
Molson, ladies and gentlemen, will now give his first 
public performance on the violin.” 

I imitated as best I could the boy’s first public per- 
formance on the violin and judging by the plaudits, suc- 
ceeded very well. 

“Miss Helena Ashton — will now favor us with a piano 
solo. Come, my little dear, don’t be afraid of the ladies 
and gentlemen,” coaxingly said Miss Lucille as she led 
Helena along to the piano. 


135 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“I can’t pretend,” said Miss Helena, ‘‘My nature is too 
rigidly honest you see, so I’ll play my favorite waltz.” 
And she played an unpublished one of her own composi- 
tion, and the music caught us all up into its flow and 
movement, inspired and enthralled us. 

Then a strange thing happenend. As the beautiful 
music poured forth in such delightful flow and harmony 
from her fingers and my mind became more and more 
captivated and inspired by it, then for some reason I 
looked toward the opposite corner of the room, and I 
saw a patch of milky, flaky cloud floating a little distance 
from the wall and about the height of a person’s head 
above the floor. It grew more dense and compact and 
then seemed to open out and at the same time my vision 
became so penetrating I could look apparently through 
the walls encompassing us and far, far into the distance. 
And this is what I thought I saw : 

THE VISION. 

A rugged mountain peak, bare and grim, and on it, sport- 
ing about in the most entrancing way, a girl' — or fairy^ — for so 
light and graceful were her movements, I could scarcely believe 
her human. She had ruddy cheeks, a clear black eye, jet black 
tresses and a body so full of the graceful poetry of motion that 
its movements were more like the shifting colored lights on 
some bubbling fountain, than the slower movements of the 
human form. 

Back and forth, with smiles and ringing laughter, she 
flitted and flashed before me as though intoxicated with joy 
and as the music reached a sudden turn she ran down the 
mountain side to where the shrubbery grew, plucked a branch 
containing leaves and red berries and came back, laughing in 
her glee. 

Then she smote the rock with her wand of leaves and ber- 
ries and cried out, “Come, come away with me to the sea, to 
the sea!” and I saw then a tiny stream, pure as molten silver, 
running down the mountain side and the fairy laughing and 
shouting in her glee kept running beside the brook and beating 
its limpid waters with her wand and shouting, “Come away 
Come away, with me to the sea,” and I, too, seemed to keep 
pace with the running brook. I heard its musical tinkk as it 
leaped from rock to basin and from basin to rock, turning 
whirling, dashing, crashing down the glen— now in shadow and 
now in sunshine, now o’er pebbly bottom and now o’er shining 
sands. ® 

On and on the music flowed and on and on rushed the 

136 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


noisy rivulet and on and on ran the fairy, through light and 
shade, through the open lands and through the tangled wild- 
wood, leaping over the waterfalls and lingering in the little 
eddies and pools, cutting deeper and deeper banks through the 
meadows and channels through the rocks. Sometimes it was 
winding slowly over gentle declivities and then with headlong 
dash rushing forward and ever and ever singing, singing with 
all of us in our glee while the Fairy flicked her wand over the 
frightened waters and shouted, “Come, away, away, away with 
me to the sea.” 

And now it seemed morning. The birds were all waking 
and singing their matin song. The sun was kissing the moun- 
tain peaks and the tallest of the trees were stretching their long 
branches to bathe in his glory. There were dew drops glim- 
mering or sparkling on every leaf. The beautiful ferns were 
bending over the streamlet’s banks and from their tips diamond 
drops fell musically into the laughing waters. 

Then again we were whirling through a fairy land of flow- 
ers, of so many, many hues and delicious perfume filled the 
air. Flowers, flowers, flowers — what a wilderness of flowers, 
in bud and opening glory and full bloom, and, strange as may 
sound the story, they were singing every one its hymn of 
praise, some in such tiny vibrations I could sense rather than 
hear them, others in full and clear chorus. I could hear the 
flower buds opening to music. I could hear the sunshine sing- 
ing in its way from heaven to earth. 

And now again it was eventide. Twilight in all its holy 
hush and calm was on us. The music flowed on evenly and 
peacefully. There was a silent prayer in every breath — a sense 
of worship in every heart. I saw the glory of the sun in the 
crimson cloud banks of the west — the deepening shade of night 
spread over us — I saw the evening star and the moon rising 
over the eastern hills. 

Then the rivulet was changed. The little rill became a deep 
and turbid stream and the music became more grave, majestic, 
solemn and sad as the sluggish stream wound its way along 
through a grove of pines and we heard the night winds sigh and 
moan through the pine tree tops like the moan of the lost souls 
of men, and we heard the rising tempest amidst the tasseled 
leaves of the old pines crying and sobbing with grief that seemed 
to have in it all the human heart had ever known of sorrow and 
of woe. And then our stream passed low, damp ground and 
with lazy motion among the reeds and vines and trailing creep- 
ers and our Fairy whisked her wand in vain to coax the slug- 
gish waters on, till at last we came again to open ground and 
joining others streams began to rush forward more impetu- 
ously till we joined in the full roar and chorus of many waters 
leaping into the sea. 

The music ceased. And still I stood gazing. The 


137 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

cloud had disappeared. The walls and furniture of my 
room and my companions again became visible. 

The young ladies with startled faces were beside me 
asking if I was ill. 

It was just then that I began to experience what had 
come upon me twice before, once in the grand concert 
hall at Leipsic after a wonderful overture from the 
Orchestra, and once before in the “Williams” home at 
the close of a two-hour family concert. Let me describe 
it if I can. 

First, there was a numbness in my right arm spread- 
ing up and down from the elbow until it felt like an arm 
of lead hanging to my shoulder, with now and then a 
prickling sensation shooting through it. Then it became 
alive again, and full of of vitality, but, strange to say, I 
seemed to have a curious sensation in my brain. I was 
circling about. No — I was rising up, up, up. It seemed 
as though my brain was floating. I felt a wonderful 
power of enjoyment — a grand inspiration to do and dare 
and at such a moment I could have faced the largest and 
most critical audience with confidence. 

“Wait,” I cried. “Wait, I am going to tell you the 
story of my life (and the words seemed new and strange) 
— the story of my life. I will interpret it as I go along.” 

Then I seized my violin and bow and announced: 
“The Song of Rejoicing over his Birth,” and there 
poured forth from my instrument such a voice of human 
joy and gladness as any hearer could readily interpret. 
Every note seemed palpitating with inexpressible delight 
In that moment I seemed not only to have the gift of 
artistic creation but also the power to interpret my work. 
I could grasp the full significance of every tone and of 
every change in the music. 

“The Song of Childhood,” I announced, and the 
streams of music flowed on and on, pure and sweet and 
harmonious, with here and there a minor strain of sor- 
row. 

“Youthful Sorrows,” I next called out, and here the 
music took a pensive strain and there stole over us as we 
listened — for I seemed no less an auditor than the 
others — a sense of loneliness and mystery and longing 

138 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


that I saw reflected in the faces of the two young women. 
On and on the music went and told its story, mingled 
with sunshine and shade, laughter and tears, mystery and 
longing till the mist of tears had gathered in all our eyes. 
And next I announced “The Battle of Life,” and here 
the music was of a martial type — the trumpet calls, the 
steady march, the inspiring music, the sudden charge, the 
roar and clash of battle, and then the cries and curses of 
the wounded, the anguish and despair of the dying — all 
was poured forth or sobbed out of that living, palpitating, 
seemingly sensitive thing I held in my arms — till we saw 
and heard and felt ourselves in the midst of life’s heroism 
and suffering and tragedy. Then a pause and the strains 
were sober and more even and breathed a spirit of fixed 
purpose and courage into our hearts. And then I 
shouted, “The Picnic of To-day,” and the music laughed 
and trilled from the vibrating strings, full of merriment 
and song till we all recognized the description as true. 
We saw again each island scene, heard the song of the 
birds and the chirp of the squirrels, and the music of 
the river, and felt that sense and elation of joy that had 
marked the day thus far. The music seemed to say: 
“Earth is beautiful, men are good, the star of hope shines 
in every man’s firmament. Heaven is near us. Angels 
are singing. Be happy ! My children, be happy !” 

“The Future,” I announced, and here the theme 
seemed weird and ominus. We felt that the light was 
fading, and clouds were gathering. We seemed beating 
against an ocean storm; night and cloud and darkness 
had fallen and the billows were becoming maddened by 
the breath of the storm-king and tossing us hither and 
thither on their fury. I saw the scene that was being 
portrayed by my hand and shuddered as it became more 
and more real — till the shock of the vision seemed to 
break the flow of the music. 

There was silence and I stood looking into space and 
watching the mountain billows of this magic scene, as 
they chased each other out of sight, when I saw Mark 
Ashton — saw him as I saw him in my dream vision with 
the pale face and wound in his temple. Then I heard 
again another cry and saw another form riding the crest 


139 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of a wave and again I saw it as the waters turned the 
face toward me. It was Helena — with the phosphor- 
escent sea light gleaming on her face and heaving bosom. 

:|c ^ 5|c =► 

I turned my face to the sofa — and she was lying in 
the exact position, her head on her arm and the long, dark 
tresses falling in confusion over her bosom now agitated 
with fear and dread and her lustrous black eyes full of 
sympathy. I grew sick and dizzy as I cried: ^‘Thank 
God — ’tis only a dream vision.” I was dizzy and faint 
with fatigue. 

She offered me the sofa and handed me a glass of 
wine and I apologized and begged them to forget my 
hallucination, and made the best excuse I could under 
the circumstances. 

Then I chatted again gaily, and to relieve the awk- 
wardness of this one note of discord, I offered to answer 
any question proposed to me — if I could. 

“What is your ideal of happiness in this world?” Miss 
Ashton promptly asked. 

“My ideal of happiness,” I replied, “is made up of 
the following ingredients: good health and good men- 
tality, knowledge of nature and art, a love of truth and 
right, appreciation of life’s common blessings, a few good 
books and a few good friends, and enough daily labor to 
strengthen and invigorate the body and not enough to 
absorb all one’s energies and prevent self -culture.” 

“And where do wealth and position in society come 
in?” she asked. 

“Nowhere, necessarily,” I answered. “If they come 
in at all, near the bottom of the list.” 

“Alas! Alas!” she cried, whether in feigned or real 
emotion I have never been able to satisfy myself, “Don’t 
you see, sir, you are putting me at the bottom of the list. 
It is very cruel of you when you know I have only two 
qualifications for happiness to wipe them off the slate be- 
fore my face. A fig for your gallantry!” 

“But you have all the other claims as well,” I said, 
“only perhaps you do not attach the right relative im- 
portance to them.” 


140 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“But surely wealth has great advantage and vastly 
enlarges one’s power and opportunities!” she said. 

“Very true,” I answered, “and a man or woman is 
simply foolish to ignore that fact and pretend to despise 
wealth, but as a factor in happiness it is very much over- 
estimated. And then few stop to consider how great 
the disadvantages of wealth.” 

“And what are they?” she asked. 

“Many and serious,” I replied, “the one being that 
the rich man seldom know his true friends. Wealth 
surrounds one with flatterers and place-hunters, and 
brings but few true friends as a rule. Another disad- 
vantage is, one seldom learns to correctly estimate him- 
self if he is rich. Everything he does has a value and 
greatness reflected upon it by this mammon- worship. And 
so the rich man sees himself in the light of a golden can- 
dlestick. Gold throws its glamour over us and prevents 
a proper estimate of ourselves and others. And still an- 
other thing,” I added, “it presents constant tempta- 
tions to us to measure life’s success by our bank account, 
and to forget the great mission of life which is growth 
and development.” 

“Say no more — say no more,” cried Miss Ashton. 
“We shall all want to leave the world and go to a con- 
vent!” I thought she was angry. 

“It is my turn now,” said Miss Lucille. “I notice, 
Mr. Molson,” said she, “that your ideal happy man is 
a bachelor. How dare you condemn womanhood in the 
present company? Don’t you see,” said she, threaten- 
ingly, “your present isolated and dangerous position?” 

“I am surely in the minority,” I said, “and confess 
the serious omission I made. Place it to the credit 
of haste as I only summarized in quick reply to the ques- 
tions from memory some of my noble teacher’s words. 
The solitary life can never be as happy as one lived in 
happy home relations and yet many a single life is richly 
dowered with bliss. If all married lives were as perfect 
as those at “The Willows” I would say marriage is a con- 
summation devoutly to be wished.” 

“You spoke,” said Miss Lucille, “about appreciating 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


life’s common blessings. What are they and how can we 
learn to appreciate them?” 

“Such blessings,” I replied, “as health, strength, intel- 
ligence, the common privilege we all have of sharing the 
beauties and the harmonies of nature, the common privi- 
leges of growth and enlargement of our being! 

“Who, for example appreciates as he should the music 
of that river, the song of the sea, the glories of a sunset, 
the beauty of the autumn maple leaf — one of the love- 
liest pictures on earth, inferior only to the human face 
divine. 

“We pine, and sigh for the wealth of the millionaire 
that we may have costly paintings on our walls, and yet 
we trample under our feet in our mad and eager rush 
for wealth, the divine art pictures of the autumn leaves. 
We want the painted mountain, or river or sea shore on 
our canvasses, mere counterfeits of nature’s glory, and 
fail to appreciate nature’s art gallery spread before us, 
without money or price! 

“I am fully of Mrs. Williams’ opinion that men need 
nothing so much to enhance life’s enjoyment as the ability 
to see beauty and truth and goodness all around them in 
nature, in every day life and in their fellow men. The 
eye to see, the soul to appreciate, the spirituality to en- 
joy — this is worth more than wealth or position or 
fame.” 

Helena sprang from her seat, her countenance all 
aglow and coming over to where I sat, said, “Let me 
shake hands with you and confess. I was a little angry 
with you a few moments ago because — because I thought 
you ignored what most people value highly and what I 
have been led to value highly as well. I am sure you 
meant no offense — and that you spoke sincerely and also 
that you spoke the truth. Let me thank you — your 
words and sentiments have often pained me but I believe 

not without profit. Now I shall respect myself more 

that I have done what is right.” 

She said it so sincerely and with such an air of sweet 
penitence that I was too charmed and agitated to do 
more than stammer out my thanks. 


142 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“You have told us nothing” said Miss Lucille “about 
your ideal woman!” 

“Pray don’t start Mr. Molson on that topic,” said 
Miss Helena. “His ideal will be so far above our poor 
earthly realization that it will discourage all our elfort.” 

“I have never consciously attempted to draw an ideal 
character for woman any more than for man,” I replied, 
“but feel much inclined to accept that drawn in the 
XXXI chapter of Proverbs, or the living portrait, 
clothed in flesh and blood, at ‘The Willows,’ my friend 
and teacher, Mrs. Williams.” I stopped suddenly for I 
seldom think of Mrs. Williams and her lofty ideals and 
teachings but there rises up in my mind the thought of 
my mother whose face I have seen only in a dim image 
of childhood’s memory and in my dreams. 

“I would give the world,” I cried, “if I had it, for 
a few moments’ vision of my mother’s face !” and I 
rushed out of the cottage with a sob in my throat to hide 
and quiet my agitation. 

When I returned the cloud had passed from my sky 
and we all joined in singing old time songs till the house 
re-echoed our music and glee. 

The moon rose over the eastern hills and flooded all 
the landscape and river with silvery whiteness as we 
glided peacefully down the stream on our return jour- 
ney. 

“This has been a day of very rich pleasure to me,” 
said Miss Lucille, as I left them at Ashton Hall, “and 
you have placed us under a deep debt of gratitude, 
Mr. Molson.” 

“There now,” cried Miss Helena, “you have said 
your thanks so prettily that my poor words must fail. I 
hope Mr. Molson will not think us ungrateful for this 
very happy day.” 

I bade them good night and went back to my room to 
dream and muse for hours over the pleasantest day of 
all my life. 


N,. Y., Oct. 19th, 18 — . 

Affairs move on smoothly at the Bank, and I am 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


becoming fully conversant with my duties and appear to 
be giving satisfaction. Mr. Ashton seems pleased with 
the work and shows himself sociable and friendly. He 
evidently desires to stand well with his subordinates as 
he chats freely with Mr. Parish and occasionally seeks 
to draw one or the other of us out in conversation. I 
have heard no more about his foreclosure of mortgages 
or his scheme of collecting $500,000 this Fall for some 
purpose after the holidays. Rumors I have heard from 
Herbert and Parish are to the effect that Miss Ashton 
is to wed a New York millionaire and that the “tidy 
little sum” is her marriage dowry — an indication of 
something larger later on. Others say it is a prince from 
Germany whom she is to wed. Idle gossip, perhaps. 

Writing of Miss Ashton I must record the interrup- 
tion to her music lessons through the injury of her arm 
in stopping a runaway horse on the streets last Thursday. 
I was fortunate enough to witness it at a distance but 
unfortunately not near at hand in time to render her 
any assistance. From those near by we learned full par- 
ticulars and a most gallant and heroic act it was. It hap- 
pened thus : 

Dr. Galbraith, who has occasionally attended Miss 
Ashton for her nervous headaches, had left his horse 
standing in front of the Wauregan Hotel and his little 
son about six years of age in the rig. The animal had 
been accustomed to stand securely without tying, while 
the father made his short professional calls, the little 
boy, a delicate, beautiful child with light golden hair, 
sitting in the seat and proudly holding the reins. A 
detachment of the Salvation Army came down the street 
and coming around the adjacent corner suddenly, the 
Doctor’s horse took fright and started up the street at 
a brisk trot, the lad meantime terrified and crying out 
for help. By the time Pine Street was reached the ani- 
mal was breaking into a run and the child reeling about 
in the narrow seat in imminent danger of being injured 
or killed. Many saw the runaway but no way of rescu- 
ing the child with any safety to themselves. Miss Ash- 
ton and Lucille were just then emerging from a store and 
took in the situation at a glance, the now thoroughly af- 


144 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


frighted steed coming directly up the street at a rapid 
pace, the boy with pallid face in the rig too frightened 
then to speak, the crowd of men and women on the walks 
and street, but no one daring to attempt a rescue. 

“For the love of heaven stop the horse, save the boy,’’ 
Miss Ashton shouted in ringing tones to a half dozen 
young men and older ones near her, and as no one en- 
tered the path, she sprang from the walk and reached the 
middle of the road a few yards in advance of the horse, 
which slackened its gait a trifle and sheered to one side, 
but the brave girl had poised herself, and leaping directly 
at the horse’s head and catching the rein, was dragged 
for a few yards upon the ground. The horse’s pace, how- 
ever, had been lowered by her brave act and the timid 
observers so inspired thereby, that a dozen hands soon 
had the animal by the bit. She was found uninjured save 
a severe wrenching of her arm and some slight bruises. 
On reaching her room, she fainted, it is said, but was 
soon restored. Her lessons are over for a time, at least. 
It was a noble deed. 

And so that divine quality of the noblest human 
souls, that which links humanity into sympathetic union 
and inspires all noble purposes and deeds, that germ of 
the God nature which leads to all self-sacrifice and he- 
roic devotion to another’s good, is not dead, only sleep- 
ing, in Miss Ashton and waiting its own time for devel- 
opment and manifestation. 

What possibilities of ideal womanhood lie hidden be- 
neath the surface in the character of that proud girl. 
I often ponder these questions now and ask. Will the 
soul come to the marble statue? 


Oct. 20th, 1 8 — . 

The Williamses came to town today and Mr. ana 
Mrs. Williams spent an hour in my studio and lunched 
with Herbert and me. Oh, how good it seems amidst a 
sea of strange countenances in the city to look upon the 
calm, serene face of my dear friend and teacher sitting 
at the same table with me and to hear her quiet but al- 
ways interesting and instructive conversation, and to see 


145 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


John Eben Williams again looking in silent admiration 
at his wife and drinking each word from her lips as a 
believer in the ancient oracles did from the lips of his 
priestess. They brought in many little presents from 
the farm, including a barrel of our choice apples from 
my Tavorite tree and Mr. Williams told me that the bay 
gelding, a handsome three year old colt, was being broken 
in and with a new cutter and harness and robe was a 
present awaiting my acceptance on my next visit to 
“The Willows.’ Surely few orphans ever fell into such 
kindly hands. I now begin to think that I never appre- 
ciated as I should my home there. Along with sweet 
sisterly messages from Laura and Maud came the an- 
nouncement that in holiday week there would be a grand 
House Party at ‘The Willows’ and I and Herb were to 
keep ourselves free for the festivities. “Remember” ad- 
ded Mrs. Williams “that ‘The Willows’ is the home nest 
and you and Herbert are both to regard it as your own 
until you get homes of your own. If you are ever sick 
or low spirited or in trouble, come at once to the homt 
nest.” How could I thank that noble woman, my child- 
hood’s best friend, my patient teacher, and from whose 
lips I had imbibed many a noble thought and principle 
that I am persuaded, if I can only follow them, will 
impart grace and beauty and strength to my life. I 
could not express my thanks for all her goodness, but 
few sons ever loved a mother more and I turned from 
her with moistened eyes as I said farewell. 

Still the veil hangs between us and that she is as con- 
scious of it as I am, I know and I know also quite well 
that, with all her love for me and womanly self-sacri- 
fice; she will never lift that veil of her own accord and 
reveal the secrets of my past life. 

I often wish I had the power of mind-reading and 
then I wonder, too, if I would be happier if I knew all — 
perhaps not. 

Oct. 24th, 18 — . 

Parish reports large progress in collections and that 
his New York trip was a great success. Mr. Ashton is 
giving increased attention to business. 

146 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


He seems, on the whole a very happy man and par- 
ticularly so at times. I notice, as he rests a moment oc- 
casionally from business, that a look of serene satisfac- 
tion steals over his face. And the look of happiness 
upon his face in these moments of respite from toil, is 
not the look of gratification which the miser wears over 
his increased gains and nothing like the look, the horrid 
look, that I shall never forget, which I saw on his face 
on the night of our first conference. Oh, no, it is a look 
that refers to the home and tells me he has found rest 
and comfort and the fulfilment of his plans and purposes 
there. Possibly the rumors of Miss Ashton’s marriage 

to the wealthy stock broker, L M , are correct. 

Possibly, too, some higher ambition of the Banker is to 
be fulfilled in the union of the heiress with a repre- 
sentative of the old world aristocracy whom she is said 
to have met in New York last season. 

The Banker’s face in repose has a look which says : — 
“My plans are working well. I have a right to be and 
am, happy.” 


N. Y., Oct. 27, 18 — . 

I have just been reading over the entries in my 
diary for the past two months and am thoroughly dis- 
gusted with myself. I find over half my entries have 
been about Miss Ashton — her face, her figure, her musi- 
cal ability, her questions, her lessons, and my visits to 
Ashton Hall and my work there, and my impressions of 
this, that and the other, concerning Miss Ashton — and all 
that kind of trash and nonsense ! 

Lucky for my reputation for sanity and my own sell- 
respect, that these pages will never meet the glance of 
other eyes than mine. I would soon lose what little repu- 
tation for good judgment I now enjoy. 

Miss Ashton’s life touches upon my own at one point 
and one point only and that possibly, and very probably, 
for a few weeks only. For an hour and a half a week 
I am her paid instructor, just as Brown is her paid con- 
fectioner, Smith her paid jeweler, Jones her paid den- 
tist and a score or more of ladies and gentlemen are 


147 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


her paid performers at her musicales and social gather- 
ings. Before these lessons, during them and after the> 
are over, if I am true to myself, true to the Banker’s 
confidence in me, true to the lessons urged upon me from 
the voiceless lips of my own father through the “Un- 
known Friend,’ I am not a young man full of the life and 
fire of manhood, with susceptibl« heart and capable of 
loving and being loved — I am an automaton, a human 
machine for producing in a purely mechanical way a cer- 
tain desired result — not a man — I am an impersonal en- 
tity — a teacher ! I am supposed to be as cold and unmov- 
able as an ocean rock. I wonder if I am and if I can 
preserve this purely negative character! 

One thing now begins to trouble me; it is this: I 
could not have thought and written so much about the 
heiress of Ashton Hall without, I fear, showing in my 
words and conduct some special interest in that one 
pupil. 

Perhaps I have been too much dazzled by ueauty, by 
the sparkle of her conversation, by the charms of her 
gracious manner and betrayed my thought and feeling! 

I am gjad this thought has occurred to me in good 
season. Whatever mistake I may have made in the past, 
no one shall have cause to complain in the future. 

And then how little I have conversed with or been 
interested in her sister — who is, by the way, a far more 
perfect character and who seems glad to efface herself 
entirely in the presence of the heiress, so great is her 
modesty and her love and admiration for Helena. 

Yes, I am very glad I discovered this errancy oi 
thought in time — for it might lead, if indulged in persis- 
tently, to some disturbance of my affections which as yet 
are happily untouched. I hardly think there is the slight- 
est danger of that, however, since I have seen, from the 
first, many grave deficiencies in Miss Ashton which 
would be impossible if I were at all infatuated, since 
Cupid is blind. I am resolved now : 

I. To limit my stay at Ashton Hall strictly to the les- 
son hour cutting off all those informal yet delightful lit- 
tle conversations I have had with my pupil at the close of 
each lesson. 


148 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


2. If for any reason, I remain a longer time than the 
lesson hour, it shall be to show interest and courtesy to 
Miss Lucille, whose moral worth I am fully persuaded 
is vastly superior to Miss Helena’s and who deserves for 
all her kindness much more courtesy than I fear I have 
shown her. 

3. I shall go out more socially and in the presence of 
other ladies shall seek to break effectually the charm 
Miss Ashton’s beauty seems to cast over my thoughts., 
for I am fully persuaded it has not affected any other 
part of my being. 


N. Y., Nov. 1st, 18 — . 

I feel that I am gradually increasing my hold on the 

music-loving people of W e. My class grows slowly 

but steadily, and most of my pupils make satisfactory 
progress. Concert engagements, too, are encouragingly 
numerous and I am getting a better class of patrons than 
at first. I see that my connection with the bank and 
position as teacher at Ashton Hall is no little advantage 
in reaching the elite circles of the city. Social invita- 
tions — which I heartily detest but find a necessity to one 
seeking public patronage — are multiplying. The rest of 
the fall and the winter especially promises to be a very 
busy and delightful season. 

I have, I fancy, thoroughly cured my “thought wan- 
dering” toward one of my pupils. In fact I have built 
up by will-power an impregnable wall about myself which 
the most piercing glances of beauty’s eyes will never 
be able to penetrate. I believe fully in the power of the 
will. When it is once thoroughly aroused and issues its 
command, the fancy and the emotional nature must obey. 
It is well. Anything else in my condition were utter 
madness — not to say betrayal of trust. I shall continue 
this heroic treatment of myself. 

W., N. Y., Nov. 3rd, 18—. 

If my work as teacher of violin continues the same 
ratio of growth through the winter, I shall give up my 
engagement with the bank and launch myself fully as a 


149 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


professional teacher. Mark Ashton has already proposed 
to increase my salary and has twice offered to me a 
lengthy engagement, urging me to make banking my pro- 
fession. I have no doubt, as he says, there is much more 
money in it than in music. But I love my calling more 
every day — feel that this is my work in the world — and 
shall never give it up. 

I think I may congratulate myself on my resolution 
of Oct. 27th in regard to my pupil at Ashton Hall. That 
I have succeeded is evident from the fact that Miss Ash- 
ton has noted my reserved demeanor and today while 
hurrying away from the Hall after her lesson in the 
midst of some questions about the methods and teachers 
at Leipsic, she asked me pointedly if any one of the fam- 
ily had offended me, as she noted I was exceeding reti- 
cent and had not a word to say outside of the lesson, 
unless it was forced from me, and acted as though the 
Hall and its people were to be avoided as much as pos- 
sible. 

Of course I apologized, and warmly disclaimed any 
intentional lack of courtesy and spoke of my increasing 
engagements. I then quickly turned the conversation and 
told her she was not practicing as she should. She 
averred she was practicing more than ever, while I re- 
plied that for some reason she did not keep up her prog- 
ress as at first. “You make breaks in reading occasionally, 
your notes are not even, your hand is unsteady,” I as- 
serted. Strange to say this seemed to please her for she 
answered quickly, “Now you are my good friend — tell- 
ing me of my faults” and she called Miss Lucille in 
from the parlor and said, “Mr. Molson has just convinced 
me on a point on which I was in doubt. I am not in good 
condition for work. My time and strength have been 
overtaxed by social engagements and extra practice. 
Sometimes I wish there was no such institution as fash- 
ionable society. If people could live without all this strain 
and worry, how much simpler and happier life would be.” 
Then she put her arm around Lucille’s neck, kissed her 
and said, “I shall go away for a month, dear. I will can- 
cel all my engagements at once.” And turning to me she 
said, “You will find me a very erratic pupil, Mr. Molson. 


150 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

You see I have been terribly spoiled — first pampered and 
indulged by my own father— then Papa has more than 
completed the work, and now I am utterly unreliable, 
and so wretchedly selfish that I am going away to leave 
all the burden upon her ” 

But Lucille had placed her hand over her sister’s lips 
and shut out the pretty confession. 

What did the heiress mean? That she was address- 
ing me — more than her sister — I plainly felt and knew 
but for what purpose? Justifying herself for breaking 
up my engagement a month? She hardly needed any 
such elaborate excuse. Or was it a spasm of real peni- 
tence over what she begins to feel a frivolous and some- 
what useless life? 

Or could it be? — she desired to have « poor vio- 

lin teacher form a more lenient estimate of her charac- 
ter? 

I was pondering these things in my mind as I bade 
her good-bye when she turned to Lucille and said en- 
couragingly as though the thought contained real com- 
fort for both of them, “But it will all be over soon, won’t 
it, dear?” 

What this referred to, I have no means of knowing. 
My first thought connected it with the rumor of her 
early marriage. 

I don’t really know why, if I have cured myself of 
“mind wandering” the first statement of her penitence 
should have given me such delight and the last statement 
of her lips, interpreted as I interpreted it, should have 
fallen like a pall of gloom over my mind and heart. 

W., N. Y.. Nov. 4th,i8— . 

I think it would be hard to find two firmer, truer 
friends than Herb and 1 . We are like Jonathan and Da- 
vid and delight in each other’s society and are always 
glad to help each other — even at a sacrifice. 

With such friends as Mrs. Williams and Herb — not 
to speak of the rest of that noble family — I really should 
have been ashamed to write as I did in these opening 
pages of this journal about my lonely life and my for- 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

lorn condition. Two such friends are enough to enrich 
any life. 

Herb has fine principles, a fund of never-failing good 
humor, a warm devotion to his friends and excels in con- 
versational powers. He delights in springing surprises 
on his friends. Last evening as we were chatting gaily 
in our rooms he sprung his little surprise on me. 

“Did you ever have any curiosity?” he asked, “to 
know who it was who defeated your pet scheme of turn- 
ing Mrs. Perkins and her children into the streets ?” 

“Why, yes,” I answered. “I did feel quite curious 
at the time but I soon lost interest after Mrs. Perkins 
forbade the investigation .” 

“Very proper in you as a marriageable young man” 
continued Herb, “to pay respect scrupulously to the 
wishes of a pretty widow, with a snug little cottage roof 
over her head, and a bank deposit — ^but I am not so much 
swayed by beauty — and cash. I have been studying the 
problem a little on the sly — for your sake, since I saw 
the deep interest you took in her. By the way you took 
an awful long time that evening to tell her she must 
move out in two weeks. I think you were there fully 
two hours.” 

“Oh, come, have a little shame. Herb,” I cried. “Tell 
us what you have found out. Have you a theory?” 

“Yes, anybody can have theory, but only the expert 
detective like myself — has the correct theory, and facts 
to prove it. Now what would you say if I told you the 
Lady Bountiful lives at Ashton Hall?” 

“I should say you were dreaming,” I replied. 

“Precisely, but dreams come true once in a while and 
this dream of mine will, I assure you, be verified.” 

“Tell us all you know and never mind about the 
dreams,” I said. 

“I shall not satisfy your morbid curiosity,” Herb 
went on banteringly, “for two very good reasons. I am 
not in a humor to give away the secrets of my new pro- 
fession merely to gratify idle curiosity, and then I am 
not through with all my investigations. I have traced the 
clue through many of its mazes and am ready to state 
a fact, and to hazard an interpretation. The fact is that 


152 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

one of the daughters of Mark Ashton gave the money 
to the widow and I am not yet positively sure which one 
it was, but I feel quite satisfied it was Miss Helena. Pos- 
sibly both of them were concerned in it. I have posi- 
tively tracbd it — I will not say how just at present — by 
the aid of a private detective to Ashton Hall. Now my 
theory is that one of them — we will say Miss Helena for 
the present — found out that Mark Ashton was about to 
do that cruel deed and fearing public opinion, or per- 
haps moved by pity, stepped in opportunely and 
spoiled the old man’s game. 

“There’s no question in my mind that Mark Ashton 
is mad — on the money question at least. Intelligent and 
broad-minded and thoroughly balanced as he seems on 
all other questions, he is mad on that subject. No one 
but a mad man would conceive or attempt to carry out 
his projects of enriching an adopted daughter in the place 
of his own child. No one but a mad man would cherish 
the idea of founding a great estate and spend his life pil- 
ing up millions for some impecunious scion of aristoc- 
racy in the old world or some millionaire stockbroker in 
this, and leave his own flesh and blood in comparative 
poverty. My opinion is the daughters know he is mad 
about money questions, and act largely under compulsion 
in carrying out his whims and caprices. His plans in re- 
gard to spending his money don’t square at all with his 
sound sense and wise methods in amassing it, or with his 
general good judgment. He is a monomaniac — that ex- 
plains everything. 

“Now that Miss Ashton either personally delivered 
the money or sent some one to do it seems certain — as 
a woman similarly attired entered the western door of 
Ashton Hall within an hour of the time when the dona- 
tion was made. She admitted herself and must, there- 
fore, have been one of the daughters or some one in their 
confidence. Miss Ashton had a hand in it for the very 
good reason that she is the only one who could spare any 
such sum without the fact being known. Every one 
knows that Miss Lucille has little money or at least 
spends but little. Miss Helena spends largely not only 
for Ashton Hall, but on herself and she asks no one, not 
even the Banker, for authority!” 

153 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


This seemed to me a most astonishing statement — 
yet while not ready to accept it I saw no way of refuting 
it and I bfegged Herbert to go into detail. But the mis- 
chievous rascal saw I was deeply interested and to all 
my enquiries he offered only good-natured badinage. I 
plead with him to give me some explanation of how he 
had traced the donor to Ashton Hall and some evidence, 
if he could, that the heiress had given the money. He 
would only affirm that his chain of evidence was com- 
plete and would satisfy judge or jury, but it must not 
be disclosed at present. 

“Like all great detectives,” he went on, “I am reserv- 
ing my most startling explanations and discoveries for a 
grand finale. Possess your soul in patience. Some day 
you shall hear of my exploits — far surpassing Sherlock 
Holmes and Lecoq. I am the rising light of the detec- 
tive fraternity and feel the wings of genius sprouting 
in — in — my shoulders.” 

W e., N. Y., Nov. 6th, i8 — . 

Herbert and I have had our first quarrel — I am 
ashamed to say. He is, generally, most amiable but it 
does seem that when your generally-amiable man or 
woman takes a fancy for a change of mood, he can be 
more unreasonable and exasperating in conversation and 
conduct than the one whose ill humor is spread out more 
evenly through his life. Perhaps there is just so much 
“meanness” in every man’s nature and it has to come out 
somewhere, somehow, or sometime, and when a man is 
really good for a long, long time and has an attack of 
‘"meanness” it all comes to the surface at once. 

I don’t know as this is correct ; it looks like it in Her- 
bert’s case. 

It all originated out of a very harmless and very nat- 
ural remark I made when we were discussing the Ash- 
ton people, to the effect that fortune had been very un- 
just and partial in bestowing the larger measure of tal- 
ent, beauty and wealth on Miss Helena and slighting Miss 
Lucille. I had not the faintest idea in the world of say- 
ing everything disparaging of the younger daughter — 
for whom I have the profoundest respect — much less did 


154 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I think there could be anything in it to offend my good 
friend Herb. I ‘was astonished, therefore, when he fired 
up in an instant and seemed to take it as a personal af- 
front to himself. He contended stoutly that both in good 
looks and in mental and moral qualities. Miss Lucille 
was as well endowed as Miss Helena and superior, quite 
superior, decidedly so in what he called “womanly qual- 
ities’’ and as to “fortune” favoring Miss Helena with 
money, it was too bad to charge upon that fickle goddess 
the whims of a mad banker! 

It was no use for me to try to pacify him and allay 
his resentment. All I said seemed only to stir him up 
more. In vain I assured him of my high opinion of Miss 
Lucille, and that I was only stating a fact that everyone 
acknowledged in alluding to Miss Helena’s surpassing 
beauty, and to her brilliancy of wit and su- 
perior conversational powers, etc. It was only adding 
fuel to the flames. He grew quite insolent and made 
disparaging remarks, not only about the heiress herself, 
but about my judgment of women in general, and inti- 
mated I was quite out of my own proper sphere attempt- 
ing to contrast womanly qualities and characters, 
and would do better in handling the bow and rosin. 

I finally got somewhat riled myself and said — well 
I hardly know what I did say — in reply. 

It was very mortifying to see so good a fellow, usu- 
ally so discriminating in judgment and logical in his con- 
clusions, so thoroughly befogged and prejudiced in his 
view — it can be nothing but prejudice — that he could 
not see distinctions as clear as day to me and, of course, 
to all others. 

After I went to my room I studied the whole thing 
out : I am now sure Herbert has fallen in love with Miss 
Lucille. Ah, well! poor fellow no wonder that he is 
blind. I really should have been more patient with him. 
Yes, it is as clear to me as noon day. Herbert cannot 
see that any woman is more beautiful than Miss Lu- 
cille because his sight is dazzled. How true it is that 
love is blind. Ah, Herbert for thee I’ll say the prayer: 

“O wad some power the giftie gie us. 

To see oursels .” 


155 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


W N. Y, Nov. 7th, i&— . 

Herbert and I are better friends than ever. I am, 
however, quite inclined to avoid giving him any offense 
by making any more comparisons between the two young 
women. 

I think this is the safer way, and I am equally deter- 
mined not to discuss with him our quarrel of last night, 
for >vhile he is quite agreeable and friendly now, I see 
possibilities of disagreement cropping up. From one re- 
mark he made today, I judge that he attributes our quar- 
rel to some unbalancing of my judgment, some infatua- 
tion about the heiress which he thinks prevents me from 
seeing things as they are. Poor Herbert ! I pity him. 

W e, N. Y., Nov. loth, i8— . 

How wonderful a thing is dreaming! Ever since a 
young lad I have had occasional dreams which made a 
deep and permanent impression on me, and some few of 
which have been verified by subsequent events, and may 
therefore be looked upon as significant or prophetic. 

Last evening I had a very peculiar — not to say weird 
— dream which I will try and describe while it is fresh 
in my memory. 


THE DREAM 

The first mental state I can recall in connection with the 
dream was the sensation of falling — if I may use sucn a term 
where one does not seem possessed of a physical body. Not 
that I was bodyless — but the weight, the burden of the earthly 
body was gone — and while seemingly in possession of some 
ethereal body, I was falling, rather say gliding down, down, 
down through an abyss of misty darkness. The movement 
was not one that occasioned any fright — nor did it seem in any 
way the result of an accident— but rather a conscious volition, 
as though there was a latent purpose in the mind either for 
myself or for some other person, and I was in some way ful- 
filling a design, or was seeking to help some one. 

Down, down, down, but ever and anon I saw a flash amidst 
the misty clouds and on this murky background I caught pic- 
tures instantly displayed and as quickly lost in the all-encir^ 
cling gloom. The pictures I saw were transcripts from my 
memory and represented my own past life. 

Soon I began to discover with these rapid flashes of views 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of my past life other pictures thrown up in lurid relief on the 
walls of cloud and mist about me — pictures I could not recog- 
nize but which I concluded must refer to future experiences of 
my life yet to be fulfilled. All the scenes were thus connected 
in some way — some more and some less directly — with myself. 
Some I remember were pleasant to look upon, but the major- 
ity were sad, or at least pleasureless to contemplate. Some 
few of them seemed painful and tragic, and at a certain point 
the clouds began rapidly to thicken about me, the mist become 
a rain of tears, and the sound of a coming tempest reached 
me. Then I heard a roar as of a vast body of angry waters 
and soon I was no longer falling or gliding downward, I wa« 
breasting the most tremendous billows of a dark and shore- 
less sea. 

At one instant I was riding on the peaks of the billows 
mountain high and tossed from crest to crest, and the next 
I was sinking, sinking, sinking until night, and storm, and 
darkness had swallowed me up. 

I noted when on the billowy crests the occasional flashes 
that lit up the troubled ocean : and I could see in the instant 
view thus disclosed one mountainous billow chasing another in 
rapid succession and the dark, deep, yawning chasms that 
opened between them. 

In one of these vision pictures illumined by this mystic 
light I saw a human form on the crest of the highest billow 
which seemed familiar. An instant later, as the changing waters 
brought it closer to me and the flash of light shone upon its 
face I was certain I could recognize the form and face of 
Mark Ashton and on his forehead I saw the marks of a bloody 
wound. Yes, it was his lifeless body tossed piteously from 
place to place by the giant arms of the angry flood. 

Then I heard a cry for help. I could not tell how near or 
far, or just in what directions, but it pierced my heart with suf- 
fering, and my eyes eagerly scanned the abyss of waters when- 
ever the shifting light enabled me to see. 

Then riding on the billowy crests I saw a woman’s form, 
tossed mercilessly about by the angry flood, the long jet black 
hair spread out on the water’s surface or thrown upward in play 
by the exultant floods. Soon again I caught a view of her and 
this time the form was brought near me, the face as pale as 
death with exhaustion and terror, a phosphorescent gleam upon 
every feature and upon her palpitating bosom. It was Helena 
Ashton, her lustrous eyes filled with terror and her hands up- 
lifted in prayer for help ! 

Then the storm increased, and like playthings on the giant 
arms of the maddened flood we were tossed, to and fro, pass- 
ing and repassing each other, now near together and now far 
apart, and ever and always looking to find and rescue each other 
but in vain. 

Then all sensation ceased and all consciousness save a tiny 
flickering little blaze that seemed more like a memory than a 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

conscious existence of the present. Gradually, however, it 
seemed the tempest was shorn of its strength, and the horrid 
roar of the angry floods became quiet. I could see the misty 
vapors lightening about me and above me, and as I looked up 
two rays of light, like sunbeams through a cloud filled my vision, 
grew brighter and brighter, and as consciousness returned again 
in full measure I thought I was gazing into the wondrous eyes 
of Helena Ashton. 

^ 

Next morning my strength was so exhausted with the 
excitement of this dream that I gave up my work for the 
entire day under plea of indisposition. 

The pictures were so stamped upon my memory I 
could paint them did I possess the artist’s skill. 

I would rather be able to interpret them. 

W e, N. Y., Nov. 12th, 18—. 

What an enigma the soul of man is — even to himself ! 
When we have least we are oft freest from care and 
happiest, and when we have more in possession and more 
in prospect, and fortune’s sun seems to shine directly 
upon our pathway, we become unaccountably discontented 
and the life which outwardly seems bright and happy, 
becomes inwardly sad and disquieted. 

I have often thought if there is a future life, as most 
people profess to believe, and we are permitted to re- 
view our past lives, one of the most interesting problems 
will be to account for our varying moods of joy and sad- 
ness, hope and fear, which have come upon us suddenly 
and without any apparent cause. 

I am looking back to my days at “The Willows” when 
that one family meant all the world to me, when I was 
unknown, comparatively friendless, and with but little 
money in my purse. In a few months all is changed, I 
am not dependent now on any one’s bounty, have an ever 
increasing circle of friends, and my income while small 
is rapidly advancing, and yet, I believe I was happier 
there than here. I cannot even imagine any rational ex- 
planation. 

I am coming into a condition of peculiar sensitiveness. 
I have always been more or less sensitive to my surround- 

158 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


ings but notice this is increasing in a marked degree. 
The sight of a pretty child, a beautiful flower, or a fine 
picture, or the recital of an heroic act, thrills me as never 
before. Form, color and motion seem to change my men- 
tal and spiritual condition. I do not know how to describe 
these experiences which are not altogether new and yet 
are new in their intensity and reality. 

Perhaps I may say I am coming into a new soul at- 
mosphere — like a vessel sailing from the polar seas to- 
wards the equator and encountering the Gulf Stream and 
new winds and new tides and a new vibration of earth 
and air and sea. 

At times I seem to be in touch with the world material 
and also with a world spiritual, and I contrast them in 
my thoughts and find them so dissimilar in many ways. 

When the world of sense seems drear or dead, the 
inner world of the spirit is oft full of spring and sun- 
shine and flowers. New constellations are rising in its 
heavens, and its atmosphere is vibrant with song. But 
sometimes both worlds seem to be under eclipse — and 
sometimes both worlds seem full of gladness, but I 
never really enjoy the outer or sense world unless the 
inner world is properly attuned. 

My worldly prospects were never so fair and promis- 
ing as now. I have an income that fully supports me 
and enables me to lay by a little every month. I shall 
soon give up my clerkship — perhaps after the holidays. 
I ought to be contented and happy but I cannot disguise 
it from myself that I am not. I am restless both in 
body and mind and sometimes feel as though I must 
break loose from restraints and limitations that I can 
feel but cannot describe. I am seriously thinking of try- 
ing my fortune in New York City. At times I feel this 
restlessness to such a degree that I start out and take 
long walks and I have gone when these fits were on me 
over vast strides of country. I walked half way to “The 
Willows” a few days ago, and found myself late for two 
pupils on my return. The walks do me good, however, 
as I sleep better after them. 

At times I wonder if I have not mistaken my calling 
and if I would be happier as well as richer in business. 


159 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


No, I am sure that the blame is in myself and not in my 
profession. Music is to me the best interpretation of 
nature’s order, the divinest of all the arts, the noblest of 
all callings, and the one path following which I can get 
most good for myself and do most good to my fellowmen. 

Perhaps I am passing through some mental or spirit- 
ual change, some crisis which means growth and ad- 
vancement. Perhaps — and who knows — it may be a lurk- 
ing strain of insanity in my nature, something inherited 
and hidden from me all the years with such concerted 
care and cunning of my friends! 

I only know there is within me an unaccountable 
reaching out of my being for something which my nature 
craves. 

To-morrow I shall see Dr. Gregson. Perhaps I am 
overworking. He should know. Oh, the mystery of 
life! 

At times, too, the mood of writing comes upon me 
and my thoughts run into verse — I will not say poetry. I 
have destroyed nearly all of these effusions but as I 
desire this Diary to be a fair history of my inmost life so 
far as these pages can reveal it, I shall insert here the 
verses I wrote yesterday. 

LONGING. 

I. 

Through the rosy dawn of childhood, through the blush 
of manhood’s prime. 

Through the earnest life of struggle — with its toil and 
care replete — 

I have waited, still am waiting for the coming of the time 
When my ears shall catch the music of the coming of 
her feet. 


n. 

I am waiting all the morning hours the coming of her 
feet. 

While the bird his mate is calling in the woodland far 
away. 


i6o 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

While the dewdrops sparkle brightly, and morning daisies 
sweet 

Lift their faces to the kisses of the mighty King of Day. 

III. 

Through the crimson flush of sunset, through the deep- 
ening shades of night. 

Through the long and weary watches which my spirit 
must complete. 

Still I am waiting, ever waiting, through the darkness 
and the light. 

For that thrill of joy supernal at the coming of her feet. 

IV. 

From the region of the unknown, from the land of the 
"to be,’’ 

In response to many prayers, my sad, lonely soul to greet. 

From the land of dreams she’s coming, from across the 
mystic sea. 

And on the strand my ears shall catch the music of her 
feet. 


V. 

Oh, skies be calm above her! Oh, winds blow straight 
to me! 

Let fragrant gales and balmy air proclaim a welcome 
meet. 

While I scan the vast horizon, o’er every league of sea. 

And watch and wait, and wait and watch, the coming of 
her feet. 


VI. 

By the dual law of nature, by attraction’s bond complete. 
By the chain that binds each atom to its pre-determined 
mate, 

Some day I know I’ll listen to the coming of her feet, 

I shall see and know and love her, be her coming soon 
or late. 


i6i 


The Mystery of Ashton Hal! 

VII. 

I have seen her airy garments in the trailing clouds of 
light, 

I have watched her face reflected in the light upon the 
sea, 

I have heard her fairy footsteps in the zephyrs of the 
night, 

And her voice I hear in ocean waves a-calling unto me. 

VIII. 

She is coming! She is coming — for the rose has deeper 
hue — 

And the birds all sing more sweetly in the chorus of the 
tree — 

And the stars all shine more brightly — and the sky is 
deeper blue — 

So I know my love is coming, swiftly coming unto me. 

W e, N. Y., Nov. 15th, 18—. 

Dr. Gregson says I am in fine condition physically 
“Certain natures, however, need change and yours is one 
of them. Don’t over-practice. Take a week’s vaca- 
tion.” And he gave me a tonic and he is richer by $5.00. 

W-^ e, N. Y., Nov. i8th, 18—. 

Miss Ashton returns here the first of December and 
leaves for the South the first of January. So say the 
reports of Parish and others. I called on Miss Lucille 
last evening and if Miss Helena’s course is definitely 
decided for the winter Lucille evidently does not know it. 
She reports Miss Ashton as feeling better but not yet 
fully herself and ready for work again. 

Miss Lucille does not know to what point in the South 
Helena is going in January, but gave me a message from 
her to the effect that she would give up her violin lessons 
after December. So I lose my most interesting pupil. 

I had a letter from Mrs. Williams to-day. She has 
fixed on the holiday week for the house party. They 

162 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


are making extensive preparations — viands, decorations* 
music, etc., and are to have an old-fashioned dance to 
close up the festivities. They are inviting over a score 
from the city. 


W — ^ — e, Dec. ist, i8 — . 

I am still undecided as to my course for the future. 
I believe in most lives there comes a time for simple 
“waiting.” I have an impression that events will dictate 
my future for me. I feel assured that changes are com- 
ing. I must see other lands and strange faces. At 
times I have a clear sense of mystery and fear overhang- 
ing me, as of some impending calamity. This seems an 
unwholesome condition mentally, despite Dr. Gregson’s 
statement. 

Often I recall some past experience, and, for a time, 
recall it so imperfectly that the only thing I know about 
it is that it was pleasant or sad. Sometimes with letters 
in my hand, I get a sense of anticipated pleasure from 
one before I open it, and shrinking fear of another, and 
on opening them find their contents fully warranted my 
fear or my hope. So while I feel assured the future 
has much of joy and gladness in it for me, yet I dis- 
tinctly feel the gloom and apprehension of some sorrow 
and suffering, as though these coming experiences were 
already, in a sense, here. I wonder if as Campbell says : 

“The sunset of life brings us mystical lore 
And coming events cast their shadows before.” 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 2 nd, iS— . 

I resumed Miss Ashton’s lessons and find her much 
improved — ^but by no means the same bright, wholesome 
and self-possessed young woman she was when she began 
her violin work. 

Either she has injured her health more seriously than 
was imagined when she went away, or she has some 
cause of fear or dread which makes her life far different 
from that of three months ago. 

She got through the lesson fairly well, but it was with 

163 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

an effort, and there was just enough forgetfulness and 
self-abstraction at times to prove to me that she was still 
unfit for the work, or for any severe labor that could be 
laid aside. 

I congratulated her on her improvement, but frankly 
told her that despite this I could not guarantee much pro- 
gress in her present condition during the month of 
December and that if she preferred rest I would waive 
the formal notice and release her. 

“You are dissatisfied with me. I do not blame you,'' 
she said. “I will do better next lesson. You shall see 
improvement. No, I will not give up my lessons this 
month, even if I do not get all the advantage from then] 
I should for after this month I cannot promise myself 
any such advantages." 

I thanked her for the implied compliment and with- 
drew. 

On passing through the library I met Miss Lucille and 
found her radiantly happy. Some secret joy was in her 
heart and eyes as I had seen some secret grief or dread 
in Miss Helena's — disguise it as she would. 

What a world of mystery! The heiress, beautiful as 
the most perfect flower, rich beyond comparison, the 
proud leader of a proud circle of admiring friends, soon 
to wed riches and perhaps love, yet so sad beneath all her 
forced smiles and laughter that a poor music master 
could find it in his heart to pity her. And this, too, in 
the same house, breathing the same atmosphere, where the 
poor, neglected daughter Lucille, whose only mission in 
life seems to serve and assist her father and her sister, 
is overflowing with a joy, the source of which is hidden ! 

Lucille and her father have, I am told, secrets in 
common, though what their nature may be no one is able 
to conjecture. 

“Miss Ashton is not so much improved as I had hoped 
to find her after her trip," I remarked to Miss Lucille. 

“She will be much better soon," she remarked, 
scarcely restraining her lips from a smile. 

“She appears to me," I continued, “ and I say it to 
you in confidence, to have some secret cause of grief or 
dread. I cannot imagine any such cause and do not wish 

164 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


to intrude in family concerns, but as her teacher I 
thought I might mention it to her sister.” 

“She has no real cause of either grief or dread — only 
an imaginary one — and even that imaginary one will soon 
be removed,” she continued while the joy of her being 
seemed to pervade the very atmosphere. 

“Even imagination can create most intense suffering,” 
I continued, determined, if possible, to impress on Miss 
Lucille’s mind the seriousness of the situation. 

“True, Mr. Molson, but we cannot escape all suffer- 
ing. Would it be well for us if we could ? If we elude 
it on one side of life’s pathway it strikes us unexpectedly 
on the other. If we escape Scylla we are likely to strike 
Qiarybdis. 

“And then, is not suffering one of our greatest edu- 
cators? Many of the finest qualities of perfected char- 
acter are due to its refining and ennobling effects. Suf- 
fering purifies. Have you not read how the great Naza- 
rene was ‘made perfect through suffering?’ Out of the 
hottest fires the gold comes purified, the dross purged 
away.” 

Then, lowering her voice a little, she said: “Helena 
Ashton is in heart and character pure gold, Mr. Molson, 
pure gold.” 

I found no reply, on the spur of the monienc, to this 
very strange statement, but my looks probably expressed 
my thoughts even better than my faltering speech would 
have done. 

“Pardon me, Mr. Molson,” continued Miss Lucille, 
“as I am in the humor for preaching, if I remind you that 
the darkest hour precedes the dawn, and that the storms 
and bitter cold of winter are a part of the necessary 
preparation for the spring flowers and autumn fruits. 

“Miss Helena will be supremely happy, I am sure, 
when the day of revelation comes. It is coming fast — 
may it soon reach us all,” and as she gave me her hand 
there was a smile upon her face of such exalted pleasure 
and delight I carried its influence with me for hours. 

5C ♦ ♦ * 

I spent several hours after coming home trying to 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

resolve the problem of the sunshine and the shadow, the 
joy and sorrow, the bright hope and the secret dread, 
hanging over the lives of the two young women of Ash- 
ton Hall — ^but in vain. 

Herbert is of opinion, and he may be right, that Mark 
Ashton is persuading Miss Helena into some mercenary 
marriage for promoting his ambitious schemes or his 
whims of an alliance with the aristocracy of the old lands, 
and that Miss Lucille is either keeping some pleasant 
feature of the proposal in reserve, or hopes to reverse the 
plans of the Banker and give her sister her freedom. 
Something beneath the surface is being planned and car- 
rid on in Ashton Hall and from all appearances the 
heiress is to be the victim. If Mark Ashton is barter- 
ing the heart and happiness of Helena Ashton for pride 
or gold, or his own world ambition, I could murder him 
for his cruelty. 


W e, Dec. 4th, 18 — . 

John Eben Williams and Mrs. Williams and daugh- 
ters spent a couple of hours at Ashton Hall last evening 
and Herbert and I were invited in to share their com- 
pany. Mr. Williams and Mark Ashton seem tried and 
trusty friends, and I am convinced of one thing since 
seeing them together; either I am utterly mistaken in 
the principles of ‘Squire’ Williams after living under his 
roof 17 years, or Mr. Williams is ignorant of the methods 
pursued towards the farmers by Mark Ashton’s financial 
agents. The Mark Ashton of the drawing room, how- 
ever, as I have pointed out in these pages before, is quite 
a different character from Mark Ashton, the money 
lender. 

It was very gratifying for me to witness the reverence 
and homage which all present, and none more than the 
young ladies, paid to Mrs. Williams who was mother, 
friend and counsellor to me, all in one, in my early and 
most lonely days. The young women sat at her knee 
and plied her with questions and the group made a pretty 
picture upon which I did not tire gazing. Mrs. Wil- 
liams, whose dark hair is getting frosted with the winter 


166 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of age and whose face is to me the model Madonna of 
all the ages, and whose eyes have the calm of heaven in 
them, sat there as queen in her regal chair of instruc- 
tion with youth and beauty at her feet listening and 
treasuring the choice words that fell from her lips. 

I cannot attempt to record the multitude of queries 
proposed — ^all of which seemed to have a practical bear- 
ing on the youthful lives before her — nor the answers 
given. But one question asked in a half wisper by Miss 
Helena, while the company were responding to some 
sally of wit from Herbert, did not wholly escape my ear 
and when once Mrs. Williams got fairly started on the 
theme, she had few more attentive listeners than myself, 
although I had heard the same sentiments from her lips 
before. I was interested now in seeing how her some- 
what novel views would be accepted by the young wo- 
men. The matter related to a point which evidently had 
been discussed warmly by Miss Helena and Miss Lu- 
cille and Mrs. Williams was asked as arbiter to decide 
between the views of the fair disputants. 

I judge from what I caught of the question and Mrs. 
Williams’ answer that the relation of love to marriage 
might be called the point at issue — whether mutual af- 
fection is the basis of true marriage, or whether reason 
and worldly considerations should decide and the affec- 
tions be taught and trained to become subservient to rea- 
son and personal interest. It seemed that Helena had 
championed the latter view of the case. Now I cannot 
pretend to anything like full and accurate synopsis of 
what Mrs. Williams said but the following represents 
fairly the gist of it: — 

“Many of the current aphorisms and proverbs from 
past days express our most advanced scientific know- 
ledge of today and the deepest practical wisdom. Com- 
ing events cast their shadows before is one of these, ex- 
pressing the great truth that the events of man’s life ex- 
ist and manifest first in the world of truth and spirit, af- 
terward in the world of matter; and that sensitive souls 
become cognizant of coming events by sensing conditions 
which produce them, thus furnishing a rational founda- 

167 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


tion and explanation of prophecy. True marriages are 
made in heaven is another of the sayings of the past dis- 
closing hidden wisdom. For all true marriage is based 
on adaptation or agreement — not implying similiarity — 
but a fitness to help and serve each other. Such souls 
in nature’s order are drawn toward each other, and where 
they meet and understand themselves and nature’s or- 
dination, wise and happy marriage is the result. This at- 
traction is along physical and mental lines but mostly 
on the spiritual side of their being. It is at once nature’s 
preparation, nature’s ordination and nature’s benedic- 
tion on the marriage rite. 

‘‘As truly as rivers seek the sea, as birds by instinct 
find their home, as truly as planets draw each other, so 
truly do souls need and seek each other. Call it attrac- 
tion, affinity, love — or what you may — it is nature’s law 
and heaven’s command — and so true marriages are in this 
sense made in heaven. 

“This natural fitness of two souls to help and serve 
and develop each other is often annulled by personal in- 
terests, subservience to social customs, manners, worship, 
or overcome by mere physical attractions, or abitrarily in- 
terfered with by others than the ones so deeply con- 
cerned. All such marriages are of earth, earthy. Love is, 
therefore, when properly understood, the basis of true 
marriage. 

“But it must be love expressing the higher affinity of 
mind, and spirit. Without this, the true marriage does 
not exist, for a priestly benediction cannot unite hearts 
which repel and do not attract each other, any more 
than some pious mummery could make harmony out of 
two discordant notes of music, or combine oil and water 
in chemical union. Such marriages may be legal, and 
fashionable and highly respectable, but, from the stand- 
point of nature’s laws and adaptations, they must be 
regarded as a degradation of the marriage bond. 

“Nature’s law in regard to marriage is that souls 
that need each other, each possessing a power to aid and 
serve the higher interest of the other, should be joined in 
matrimony. These are they whom God hath joined to- 


i68 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


gether. And this ordination of nature ignores all ques- 
tions of wealth, and caste and rank, and recognizes adap- 
tation to each other’s need through true mutual affection, 
for love is the natural attraction of two souls that need 
each other. 

“Love — how abused and misunderstood the term ! 
How profanely men speak of it, bandying it about on 
lips of deceit and falsehood, yet love is the one word 
which is expressive of God. Love — how pure, divine, 
ennobling when understood in all its intensity and beauty 
of meaning! Love is another name for God, the force 
which binds the universe together, that makes the world 
go round. Love binds all souls with golden girdle to the 
throne of God. Love unites families, communities, bro- 
therhoods. Love is an enchanter that changes all worth- 
less things to gold. Love is the artist that discovers and 
produces the beautiful. Love lights the eye, transfigures 
the face, exalts the life and changes the cottage to the 
palace, poverty to affluence and makes a desert a para- 
dise. A loveless marriage is a sin against one’s own 
soul, an outrage on nature’s plan and purpose for hu- 
manity, a crime against innocent childhood. 

“But love is not passion. It is not selfishness. It is 
not mere emotion. It is not a passing storm of feeling, 
an avalanche of waters, followed by a drouth. It im- 
plies a fixed principle of conduct, a mission to be fulfilled, 
a devotion to a high and holy purpose. Love, then, im- 
plies service, sacrifice, disinterested toil for the person 
loved. It asks no reward. It looks to but one end — 
the welfare of the one loved. See yon mother sitting 
beside the crib of a sick child, day after day, night after 
night, forgetting all worldly engagements and pleasure, 
forgetting her own need, her whole soul centered on the 
sick child. So love in its higher forms of expression 
gives all and asks nothing in return. Love says: let the 
one I love be successful and happy, I ask no more; I 
can even be abased if that one is exalted. 

“Such marriages and such love would make of earth 
an Eden and in a few generations almost transform 
men into Gods.” 


169 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


''Ah, me!’’ cried Miss Helena, rising up from her 
seat, "the path is too narrow, the road too steep for my 
poor, faltering feet, such a life as you have described is 
only for the good, the saints and holy ones of earth, 
souls freed from the dross of sinfulness, selfishness, 
pride and worldliness. I shall, I fear, never reach your 
ideals. I am too proud — and selfish — and — useless.” 

"Do you know. Miss Helena,” continued Mrs. Will- 
iams, "one of the greatest dangers in life is underesti- 
mating our own greatness and our own goodness, strange 
as this may sound to those accepting traditional religious 
teaching. We are far too apt to condemn ourselves, and 
lose patience with ourselves! We seem to forget that 
character is not formed in a day, the virtues and graces 
of humanity are not grown in a night, but as the plants 
require good conditions and then time to ut’Iize these 
good conditions, so we also cannot put on all strength 
and wisdom and goodness as we don our garments. 

"Why are we so impatient with ourselves? You have 
patience with the flowers — give them water and soil and 
sunshine and patiently wait for growth and bud and 
flower. You are never impatient with them nor chide 
them. Do you think the soul grows into virtue and 
beauty and spirituality more easily and more quickly 
than the plants come to bloom ? 

"I am sure if you saw a poor little plant in the dusty 
highway trying to grow and express its vision of beauty 
to the world, you would pity it — would you not? Well, 
we are each like that poor plant by the wayside; let us 
pity each other, and let us pity ourselves.” 

Then turning to Miss Helena, she embraced and 
kissed her and said, " And my beautiful Helena, who 
judges herself so severely and grows so impatient over 
her own failure and short-comings, will yet possess 
every grace and beauty of character I have described.” 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 5th» 19 — . — 

Herbert is quite a philosopher in his way and has 
given me an idea of his views of human nature that I 


170 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

think would prove novel to most people. He believes 
that at the base of their character all men are essen- 
tially good and essentially great. The expression of this 
goodness, in individual lives varies according to age, ex- 
perience, environment and heredity. The amount of 
goodness, in individual lives, varies according to age, ex- 
progress to which nature has carried out her evolutionary 
process in the individual. 

All man’s powers of mind, body and soul are essen- 
tially good in themselves and their proper use is good, 
and only evil in their abuse. Men are not wicked by 
nature but good, and by fuller development can become 
better. What we complain of in human nature and in 
human conduct is not sinful and wickedness per se, 
but in reality a condition of unripeness, if that word is 
allowable. Good and evil are relative terms, he says, and 
one man is good compared with another not so well de- 
veloped and the same man is bad compared with another 
man more developed, just as a peach half ripe is good 
compared with a peach just forming, and bad com- 
pared with a ripened peach. He is an inveterate opti- 
mist like his mother, and believes all things tend up- 
ward and onward and, like her, often quotes Tennyson’s 
phrase about the “one eternal purpose” nature manifests 
to develop and educate and ennoble man. 

According to this view there does not appear to be 
very much difference in men morally, or intellectually. 
In their essential being they are much the same, the dif- 
ference being in the environment and the degree of their 
unfoldment. 

This view strikes me as very interesting and if it be 
correct, may humble the pride of the few but ought to be 
a powerful stimulus and incentive to the many. To 
bring out the best that is in one’s self or one’s friend, he 
says, you must supply right conditions and wait nature’s 
evolutionary process. This must seem slow to many but 
it is certain in the end. “The mills of the gods grind 
3lowly,” and “one day is with the Lord as a thousand 
years and a thousand years as one day.” Now Herb says 
one of the most essential requisites in getting out into 


171 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


full expression the talent and goodness and beauty in- 
herent in ourselves or others, is to believe in it and expect 
it, just as you believe in your rose tree and give it the 
soil and water and sunshine necessary, and then patiently 
wait for bud and flower. 

Now all this has somehow set me thinking about 
Helena Ashton and her troubles, and I have been wonder- 
ing if I have not done her much injustice by my sharp 
criticisms of her at first. I certainly have seen of late 
qualities in her life I did not at first dream she possessed, 
courage and self-sacrifice in the rescue of the child she 
loved, and many evidences that while she carries herself 
proudly and haughtily before the world, she has both a 
very lively view of her imperfections and a very strong 
desire for growth and improvement. Possibly there 
are many other attractive qualities in her nature awaiting 
the opportunity, that is the fitting conditions for un- 
foldment, just as the bulbs lying hidden beneath snow 
are waiting for the genial air and warmth of the spring. 
There are certainly grand possibilities in her life. 

When I thought over these things tonight and re- 
membered that she, like myself, was an orphan, but, un- 
like myself, had not such a teacher as Mrs. Williams to 
instruct her and had derived her views of life from 
a fashionable governess and from life in schools for wo- 
men, where wealth and fashion ruled, and I remembered 
her recent sufferings and secret troubles, a great wave 
of sympathy and pity passed over me. I saw her again 
in mental vision as I had seen at my last lesson, her pal- 
lid cheeks in the setting of her wonderful wealth of black 
hair and lustrous eyes, and her timid and troubled man- 
ner, and I resolved to have another conference with Miss 
Lucille and see if the “day of revelation” — whatever 
that may mean — cannot be hastened. 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 7th, 18 — . 

I saw Mrs. Williams and Laura in town today; they 
were anticipating a jolly time during holiday week and 
are going to invite the Ashtons. It seems that the Will- 


172 


The Mystery of Ashton Hal! 


ianis family and the Ashtons got quite well acquainted 
while I was in Leipsic, through business relations I un- 
dertand between the Banker and Mr. Williams. 

My work goes on evenly and prosperously but there 
is little heart in it. I cannot arouse a spark of enthu- 
siasm in myself over counting cash, reckoning interest 
and making entries. And as for professional work in a 
small city, you soon reach the limits of the place and then 
there is no possibility of advancement. I sometimes wish 
I had chosen another place. 


W e, N. Y., Dec. 8th, i8 — . 

I gave Miss Ashton her lesson today and she did bet- 
ter than formerly, seemed more like herself, and I 
should be quite encouraged if she were going on with her 
work for a length of time. But of what use? It seems 
farcical to attempt anything in three or four weeks, and 
hypocritical in making any pretense at serious interest in 
the few remaining lessons. They only seem like a pro- 
tracted farewell or leave-taking. I am persuaded she 
must feel the same thing and the lessons must prove as 
irksome to her as they do to me. I shall break off my 
engagements with her the next lesson under some excuse. 
I am beginning to wish I had never begun them. I think 
I have too much work — ^yes, that’s it, I need her lesson 
hour for private practice. 

W e, N. Y., Dec. loth, i8— . 

I have given my last lesson at Ashton Hall. At the 
close I told Miss Ashton I had too much work and as 
there were but a few weeks remaining of my engagement, 
it was useless for either of us to assume an interest in 
the work we could not feel under the circumstances and 
so begged her to release me. 

She at once bowed assent but I could see she felt in 
some way humiliated and, after a moment, she said : 

“Confess, Mr. Molson, you have formed a bad opin- 
ion of the people of Ashton Hall in general. Of Papa 


173 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Ashton and his business methods, his cruelty to the poor, 
his lack of charity, his treatment of his daughters, and of 
his selfish and frivolous daughter and her lack of inter- 
est not only in music but in all things good and noble 


I had tried to stop her half-jocular and half-serious 
charges — ^but in vain. She seemed determined to say 
what was in her mind and she did it, quite fearlessly, al- 
most impetuously. 

When I got a chance to speak I said, “You quite mis- 
interpreted my views of the people at Ashton Hall. I 
have no right nor wish to criticise or condemn my em- 
ployer or his family. We have, it is true, different ideals 
but I certainly cannot condemn others in choosing and 
following their ideals as I choose and follow my own.’' 

She dropped the supject at once and went on to say: 
“You have been very attentive and painstaking. I have 
certainly learned much and should have received greater 
advantage from your lessons but for my neglect and ill 
health. I thank you much for the interest you have 
shown." 

Going to the parlor she returned with a beautiful 
medallion of Beethoven which she asked me to accept 
as a token of her gratitude. “It may remind you to think 
as kindly as you can of the people of Ashton Hall when 
the experiences of the last three months are only a mem- 
ory to you." She was very pale and calm but spoke with 
averted face till she gave me her hand in parting and as 
I caught the full erpression of her countenance there 
flashed across me a revelation — I love her! 

It set my whole nature thrilling with unexpressible 
delight. It fills my mind and heart with a rapture all di- 
vine. 

Yes, I love her and that one fact explains to me all 
that has been mysterious in myself and my experiences 
the past few months. I know now that from the first 
hour I saw her face, her divine beauty was stamped upon 
my heart forever. It has taken all these months for the 
knowledge of this simple fact to reach my mind in the 
revelation, swift as the flash of light, that came to me 


174 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


in the full glance of her eyes tonight. I love her, and 
while I could not be more certain of the fact, I am alas ! 
equally certain that an impassable gulf separates me from 
her forever — that I must bear my burden alone — I must, 
like some wounded bird, seek the solitude and suffer the 
arrow rankling in my heart, as many another has doubt- 
less suffered. Yet despite the utter hopelessness of my 
love, the thorny path my feet must thread alone, the years 
of vain regret I see before me for what might have been’ 
(had fortune been more kind), despite all present tor- 
ture and all future pain, it is an unspeakable luxury to 
confess it to myself and to write it in these pages, “I 
love her, I love her, I love her.” 

This passion seems to glorify and inspire my nature 
— hopeless though that passion be. It sets the finer part 
of my being vibrating with a melody all its own. It is 
to my nature what the sunrise is to the Alpine peaks, 
cold and bare and unattractive till glorified by the god of 
day. 

I know love is a fire that consumes, a mountain tor- 
rent that oft brings destruction in its wake, a madness 
that oft o’erthrows reason and life itself. I know, too, 
that after the first ecstasy of this revelation has passed 
from me, and I see before me the inevitable separation, 
the long years of patient, plodding labor, with the dream 
of life unrealized, what suffering is in store for me thro’ 
this mad passion, yet despite it all, I repeat I am glad 
and thankful I can write that to me the gates of Para- 
dise have opened in vision, though but for an hour, and 
though I may not myself enter. 

W e, Dec. 12th, 18 — . 

I have told Herbert that I love Helena Ashton. His 
face looked very grave. I thought he seemed to view 
it in the light of a great calamity. At least I judged that 
from his face, for he would say but little. 

Bless him! He has been a thousand brothers to me 
in one. Ever since I remembered, in all my boyish troubles 
and griefs I have gone to him as naturally as to his 


175 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

mother — just as a child goes to the great all-sympathizing 
mother-heart. In his ordinary life he’s a jolly companion 
and a good friend, but it is only in trouble that you rea- 
lize his true nature. When you go to him in trouble he 
has that rare faculty of putting himself in your place, 
seeing things, feeling them and suffering them all as you 
do. You don’t need to be everlastingly explaining things 
to him. He comprehends you and your trouble is his 
trouble. He opens his great sympathetic heart and swal- 
lows you and your sorrows in it. He is like his mother, 
divine in his sympathies. He is like those blessed beings 
who say to troubled hearts, “Come unto me, ye wearied 
and heavy laden, ye sick and suffering and I will give you 
rest and peace.’’ Such people heal your mental anguish 
and heart wounds, and sickness and soul lonliness by 
their looks, their tones, their very presence, rather than 
by any conscious efforts. They impart to you the calm 
and comfort of their own being. They are the world’s 
Christs. 

Herb heard me very patiently and only said, “I am 
sorry, Herman, for you — possibly for her. Wait till 
I have thought it out and Til tell you then what to do.’’ 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 13th, 18 — . 

I could see a great seriousness and gentleness in Herb 
when he came in tonight. A mother with a sick child 
could not have been more tender. I thought he might 
scold me — and felt as though he ought to — but he had not 
a word of reproach. 

“Now, Herman, I am going to prove myself a true 
friend. Good friends and good surgeons often give pain. 
If you were not what you are, so sensitive to conditions 
and if there were not so much of the emotional and the 
imaginative in your being, as there is, I should not pre- 
scribe what I am going to. The trouble is these things 
strike deep in natures like yours and remain long. But 
first answer a few questions. You love Helena Ashton— 
does she return your affection?” 

176 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“I have not the slightest possible reason, unfortu- 
nately, for thinking so,” I replied. 

“Fortunately — not unfortunately — you should have 
said,” replied Herbert, “for you must know that did she 
love you and were she willing to marry you, you could 
never ask her to do so, much less marry her. You could 
not seek her hand under present conditions, the heiress 
as she is of vast wealth, and you could not ask her to re- 
nounce her wealth to marry you in poverty, and if these 
insuperable obstacles were out of the way, Mark Ash- 
ton remains. I need not repeat these facts. Your own 
good sense and judgment recognizes them as fully as I 
do. Hence it is very fortunate if you alone are involved 
and the case is much easier of adjustment. Does she 
know that your are in love with her? You have not 
spoken of it or even hinted it to her?” 

“Never, and fortunately she even thinks I dislike or 
despise her and prefer the sister,” I said . 

“I am sincerely glad you have not spoken,” Herb said, 
“but I am not so well pleased with your last statement 
that she believes you dislike or despise her and prefer her 
sister. As an expert in heart cases” Herb continued with 
a gleam of his old humor, “decidedly dislike that symp- 
tom. A woman’s nature is a most singular mechanism 
and has so many hidden springs and sources of action in 
it that many unexpected things take place. We can only 
hope for the best, that is, that she hates you. When did 
you discover that you were in love with her?” 

“Only three nights since on leaving her in bidding 
her good-bye. It came as a revelation to me — in a glance 
of her beautiful face. I have been most stupid not to 
recognize it so long ago. I knew at the first her beauty 
enthralled me, I began admiring her as you do a picture, 
or any other work of art and genius. I compared her 
with others and pronounced her in many ways deficient, 
in many ways blameworthy. Then I saw some good in 
her character and some indications of forthcoming 
graces and virtues, and I began to hope for her. I found 
her sick and in trouble and I pitied her — and all the while 


177 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


her face was before my mental vision and her image 
stamped on my heart, yet I knew not that I loved her till 
I said good-bye to her the other night. Now my whole 
being is intoxicated with her beauty. Her name is full 
of music. Her presence, though unseen, seems ever with 
me and even the thought of her gives me unspeakable 
gladness.” 

“Herman, my boy,” said Herbert, “ there is one way 
out — only one. It pains me to say it. It cuts me to the 
heart but I see no other way. Pack up your things. 
Go away a year or two. You cannot stay here and face 
the issue. You need a change. I have seen something 
serious was on your mind for months but did not dream 
of this. Brace up and show yourself every inch a man. 
Of course, you will never let her know it. You, I am 
sure know it would be folly, madness, to ask her hand. 
If she loves you she would be too proud to own it. I 
do not say you are not worthy of her or of the best 
woman that God has made, but Herbert, you could not 
honorably follow the prompting of your heart .” 

“I know, I know. Herb,” I broke in upon his dis- 
course, “there are a thousand reasons why I could not 
and would not voice this fact to another living soul, but 
you or your blessed mother. My poverty, my mysterious 
parentage, my father’s injunctions, the letters of my un- 
known friend, and above all the clear though tacit un- 
derstanding with Mark Ashton that I entered Ashton 
Hall as a hireling teacher, and by implication barred from 
all approaches to social equality, and the Banker’s well- 
understood policy regarding his millions and his heiress 
— all — all forbid the thought of any reality to my dream. 

“Herbert, I want your continued good opinion. I 
need your strong sense and steady hand as my friend and 
brother just now. So I tell you — that since I first dis- 
covered the truth myself that evening in Ashton Hall 
up to now, through the sleepless hours of the past nights, 
I have had no other thought in my mind but that I 
would bury this madness from the world and from her. 
God help me, I will.” 


178 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Herbert grasped my hand and said, ^‘You have all 
elements in your nature out of which heroes are made'’ 
.and I saw the tears glistening in his friendly eyes. 

We talked till long past midnight and this is our 
■agreement. As soon as I can close up with my private 
work, without giving too much occasion for surprise and 
gossip, say by the end of the year, I shall go to Germany 
for a year’s study and rest. When I come back I will 
start professional life in real earnest in New York City. 

Herb, splendid fellow that he is, has put his purse at 
my disposal and offers me $1000 or more as I may need 
it. We are thoroughly agreed in our plans and intend 
keeping them sacredly to ourselves, at least for the pres- 
ent. 

Herbert has mapped out my program for me with re- 
gard to Miss Ashton. I am not to seek her nor to openly 
shun her, but to avoid any occasion of private interview. 
Meantime I am to keep as busy as possible. 

I should have been stranded in this heavy storm but 
for Herbert. 

W e, Dec. 19th, 18 — . 

I have given most of my pupils a guarded notice 
that unless my health improves I may go away for a 
time in January and as to the bank engagement I prefer 
to forfeit my December salary in lieu of a month’s notice 
rather than excite comment and inspire questioning on 
the part of the Banker or his family. I can easily find 
a plea for sudden leave-taking in January. We are not 
going to let the Williams family know about it until we 
meet them at the house party. I am succeeding well in 
my preparations and shall be ready to start January first 
or second, at latest. 

What an immense relief it is at such a time as this 
to have engagements for every hour of the day and even- 
ing and not to be obliged to think. If I allowed myself 
to think of the Williams people, and of her, I should have 
to give up. As it is, I am on the rush day and evening 
,and sink into sleep through sheer exhaustion. 


179 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


What a comfort to have a true comrade like Herbert, 
“guide, philosopher and friend” to stand by one’s side 
in a battle and cheer one on. 

If I win in this fight Herbert deserves the credit. His 
mother’s beautiful teachings are incarnated in him. 

% 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 21st, 18 — . 

While I was out Herb got two cards of invitation 
for us to Miss Ashton’s musicale this evening. He had 
sent a reply declining because of previous engagement. 
I am finding my time so fully occupied and so much yet 
to be done in preparation that I shall only go out to the 
house party one evening — the night of the old folks 
dance. I shall take Christmas dinner with them, how- 
ever, and Herb of course will go along. I am afraid I 
shall not enjoy it, in view of what is coming. 

W e, N. Y., Dec. 26th, 18 — . 

We spent Christmas at the dear old home and I never 
saw “The Willows” look more attractive and never, it 
seems to me did the people appear so truly loveable. I 
did my best to fight off the shadow of our coming sepa- 
ration but could not but recall my former sad leave- 
taking for Leipsic. 

Mr. Williams was full of interesting accounts of his 
farms and stocks and many plans for improvement in the 
future. I listened in vain for the accounts of foreclosure. 
Perhaps Mark Ashton never carried out his threats. Per- 
haps, if he did attempt it and “Squire” Williams took 
a hand in it, the latter is too ashamed to mention it. A 
great contrast between him and the Banker who seemed 
then to glory in his proposed oppression. 

Mrs. Williams is the same — only each year seems to 
add to her subtle grace, increased depth and wisdom to 
her thought and richness to her emotional life. 

I saw her curious gaze fixed on me several times but 
I preferred not to let her know that I saw it, and kept 
up a rattling fire of conversation. Herb proved himself 


180 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


a host, too, in filling in the time and keeping the 
attention ofif some dangerous themes, yet I do not doubt 
that Mrs. Williams knows there is some secret between 
us and something we are hiding from the family. 

vShe can, as I know, keep her secrets from me for 
many years. It will go hard with me, if I do not keep 
one from her for a few weeks. 

Laura and Maude grow more beautiful and interest- 
ing daily. 

This home is now my strong attraction to this coun- 

try. 

I have promised a violin solo for the house party 
and I am sorry, for it will be an ordeal to play on that 
last night. 

But how could I refuse the Williams family any- 
thing? How? 


Dec. 28th, 18 — . 

The Williamses had a glorious night for the old 
folks concert and dance. And everybody — except Herb 
and I — were in such rollicking good humor! How I 
could have enjoyed it a few months ago — or even now, 
if the dark shadows of separation were not at this hour 
falling between me and all that is dear to me on earth. 

Just before the evening program opened two spank- 
ing teams drove up to “The Willows” — the first bringing 
Mark Ashton and Helena and the second Herbert and 
Miss Lucille. I had gone out early in the afternoon by 
stage. They were cordially welcomed and entered into 
the spirit of the proceedings with great zest and delight. 
There is something in the bracing air of winter and the 
joyous sleigh ride to rouse the sluggish pulse and put 
new vim and spirit into both body and soul. 

I never saw Mark Ashton so radiantly happy as he 
was that evening. It was not the sudden flush of glory 
which I have seen on his expressive face a few times, 
which like the lightning comes and disappears almost the 
same instant. No, it was a look of deep, all-pervading 
soul satisfaction and pleasant anticipation combined that 
illumined his face the entire night. He looked younger 


181 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


by twenty years than I have seen him look at times, and 
seemed to have thrown off for once all those business 
cares which I have seen debase and mar his countenance 
occasionally, and unalloyed pleasure sat there en- 
throned. Mr. Ashton was particularly delighted with 
the choir, dressed to represent the old-time people, sing- 
ing quaintly yet sweetly and tunefully the old-time 
songs. He cheered them enthusiastically and again ana 
again pleaded for repetitions of certain numbers. The 
dance also greatly pleased him and he and Mrs. Wil- 
liams led in several of these to the great satisfaction of 
the young people. He was also one of the leaders of 
the conversation, which never flagged between the num- 
bers, and told many an amusing story of his early life. 
Squire Williams, also, inspired by Mr. Ashton’s example, 
related funny incidents of his boyhood days. 

Nearly one hundred people in all were present, the 
entire house being thrown open, brilliantly lighted, and 
most of the rooms adorned with palms or flowers while 
several choice works of sculpture and painting graced the 
large drawing room, which was utilized for a ballroom. 
The gathering, while large for a country home, was a 
very genial one, every guest seemed determined to be 
happy and to impart happiness to others and the com- 
pany, therefore, was more like a family reunion than an 
ordinary social gathering. 

Miss Lucille is for some cause still provokingly happy 
and in speech and manner added much to the life and 
enjoyment of the evening. Miss Helena also seemed to 
catch the exuberant spirit of the place and time, but I 
noted that occasionally she seemed to sink back into the 
troubled look and dejected air that have marked her 
manner for the past two months. While at times she 
took a leading part in the wit and raillery of the hour 
with something of her old-time gayety, there was several 
times a look of pain and apprehension in her eyes when 
the New Year was mentioned. She avoided me, I 
thought, in all the evening’s exercises and conversation, 
except, of course, the formal greetings. Perhaps she 
thought me rudely discourteous in dropping her lessons 
on a palpable excuse, or in failing to accept a social invi- 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

tation to Ashton Hall. Turning suddenly once during 
the evening, I caught her brilliant eyes fastened on me 
with such a strange expression in them— a sort of in- 
quisite wonder in them — but changing as she dropped her 
gaze to such a look of pain that it made my heart ache 
and I turned away. 

I was urged by Mrs. Williams, and urged again by 
Laura and Maude to dance, but I lied and said I was suf- 
fering with headache. I don’t justify but despise myself 
for it — and I am glad I am ashamed of it — but I could 
not dance, knowing what I did, and realizing what this 
gathering meant to me. I can lie with the lips, a quick 
impulsive lie, and inwardly repent and disavow it, as I 
did. But I could not act a lie to music. Had I attempted 
to dance it would have been one protracted lie through 
all the poetry and witchery of its mazes, and I felt if I 
danced when my heart was like lead in my bosom and I 
could hardly keep back the sob from my lips. I should 
be playing the hypocrite wdth every movement of my 
body, and making a discord in the otherwise harmoni- 
ously happy circle, which the angels could hear and my 
own soul must condemn. I could no more have danced 
that evening in that room than I could have danced 
beside the tomb of a friend. I was spending, probably, 
my last hour, for years at least, under the roof that 
sheltered my boyhood, in the bosom of a family that had 
given unstinted care and kindness to an orphan stranger. 
And I was fighting, therefore, a battle with my emotional 
nature, which is always difficult to repress. The strange 
thought struck me more than once, as I kept a lively 
interchange of light conversation with my neighbors and 
showed myself outwardly affable and courteous to all, 
that I was seeking with the mask of happiness upon my 
face and amidst the evening’s revelry, to bury the 
voiceless hope of my sad heart in that wilderness of 
flowers and to the sound of mirth and dancing. Worse 
still, I had seen in the look upon her face that she was 
suffering, though from far different cause, and on that 
face a mute appeal, which I could not interpret nor could 
I altogether ignore. 

So, at last, I found the place unbearable and stole 

183 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


away upstairs and sought out my own little room and the 
bed in which I had slept as a boy. Kneeling down before 
it with my face in my hands, where I had often poured 
out my heart in prayer in my childhood troubles, I sought 
wisdom and strength and grace to do right and follow 
out the straight path I had marked out for my feet. How 
long I was here I know not, for I lose track of time in 
certain moments of deep self-absorption and I was under 
the load of a great sorrow at that hour and the path of 
life seemed so very steep and rough and almost impossi- 
ble, when I suddenly heard a whisper, “Herman!” which 
seemed to come from a small square opening in the par- 
tition separating my room from a similar one belonging 
to Herbert. Then after an instant’s silence again I 
heard it, but more audible, in low yet distinct though 
tremulous tones: 

“Herman, my poor, lonely boy, Herman be of good 
cheer. You are not alone. You will be guided and 
sustained. Be brave and true for you are passing the 

days of trial — ^but they are nearing the end — just a — 

— few more heavy shadows — and then the 

light. And — then ” but the voice died away to 

silence. 

I sprang up and in a moment was in the hall-way. 
The door of Herbert’s room was slightly ajar. Though 
the rooms were not lighted, I could readily see as I 
opened his door that there was no one there. I saw no 
one, but I thought I heard a door softly opening or 
closing in the hall below. I knew that Mrs. Williams 
had spoken to me in the same mysterious way she did 
before I left for Leipsic nearly six years ago, though 
Mrs. Williams I am sure did not know I was soon to 
leave for Leipsic again. 

Like all things earthly the proceedings came at last 
to an end about midnight, but an unlooked for denoue- 
ment came. It was the Banker of Ashton Hall that sprang 
upon us the surprise of the evening. In thanking Mrs. 
Williams profusely for the rich enjoyment of the even- 
ing, he wished to know if Mrs. Williams would allow 
him to obtrude still further on her kind hospitality and 
grant him a cot for the night. If there were many 

184 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


guests to remain, as he presumed there might be, he 
would gladly take a cot in the hall as he was a sound 
sleeper and had so enjoyed the evening he was loath to 
leave ‘‘The Willows.” Then, he continued, he and Squire 
Williams had some accounts to adjust in the morning and 
he would, unless he was taxing their hospitality over- 
much, remain. Miss Ashton had to return to meet some 
morning engagements and he was going to ask Mr. Mol- 
son to drive his daughter home . 

I lost the rest of his speech — my brain was m a whirl 
at this surprising request. I saw a look of blank wonder 
come over Miss Ashton’s face and Herbert looked aghast 
while I — hesitated a moment and then (weak fool that I 
was for so imprudent a speech) — “doubted if I could 
manage the team.” I was never more disgusted with 
myself than then, for every one knew I delighted in a 
fine horse and had prided myself for years on my riding 
and driving. I rallied myself, however, and thanked him 
for the honor, “provided the young lady concerned 
offered no objections.” 

It was the only awkward or disagreeable occurrence 
of the evening and I was solely to blame for it, but the 
circumstances furnished a partial excuse. I saw looks of 
enquiry flashed from eye to eye between the Banker and 
his daughters, and Helena approached and whispered 
something to him and I, standing nearby, heard him say, 
in low tone: “V^ery well, if not — I will go.” Her- 

bert came to my aid at once. He put the best face pos- 
sible upon the matter and entered into a lively talk about 
the delightful ride before us, even proposing to race to 
town. 

Miss Lucille caught him at once with the retort, 
“What a compliment to me!” and Herbert for once had 
no ready reply. 

We were soon off and what a glorious night! The 
road for the most part follows the meandering river 
which winds along its course like a serpent with its 
emerald ribbon of ice; a slight crust on the snow and a 
million sparkling, glittering crystals catch and reflect the 
moonlight ; a foaming pair of steeds seize the bits with a 
will and show their pedigree and training in every grace- 

185 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


ful step and movement; a star-decked canopy, the face 
of God above you and the glorious moon smiling through 
fleecy, transparent clouds and looking down in full-faced 
vision to madden the human brain ; an atmosphere filled 
with the elixir of life, vibrant with hope and cheer, radi- 
ant with moonlight and starlight and fit for the gods to 
breathe; and beside you, for a solitary ride of twelve 
miles, one, an incarnation of youth, beauty and hope, a 
look of whose face could photograph itself upon your 
heart forever, and in the depth of whose dark eyes most 
men would read their fate ; a beauty, moreover in trouble, 
in penitent mood, pleading by word and look for your 
friendship, and possibly accessible to your love! 

Oh, ye Gods! was ever poor mortal so tempted to 
forsake the thorny path of principle and honor for the 
rosy path of pleasure’s dalliance? Here on the one hand 
the magic and mystery of the night and the woman 
beside me who had enthralled mind and soul with her 
beauty, and now, in her sorrow and trouble, stirred pro- 
foundly the depths of my emotions, and on the other 
side the teachings of my childhood days, the ideals of 
right and honor I had formed, the engagements made 
with Mark Ashton, the spectral teachings of my departed 
father — all — all standing as a wall of stony separation 
and freezing the words upon my lips ! 

My heart was a battlefield of the most conflicting 
emotions during that ninety minute ride to the city. 

It was as though everything conspired to urge me to 
avow my love and risk my fortune on a single throw. 
The enexpected request that brought us together, the 
inspiration of the scene and ride and moonlight, the crisp 
air intoxicating one’s blood, the merry bells starting the 
finer vibrations of the brain, the silent enchantment of 
earth and sky and the magic of beauty by my side, the 
thought that this was the last night I should see her for 
years, and' possibly, forever! May the Recording Angel 
be merciful to all who are tempted as I was to forget 
honor and duty ! 

Nor was Miss Ashton’s talk on the way home with- 
out its dangers and temptations. 

She had in her present condition of health grown 

i86 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

over-critical of herself and somewhat morbidly sensitive 
to the fact that the Banker and his daughter shared 
secrets which were not entrusted to her. She had 
pleaded, as I learned, for confidence and all explanations 
had been postponed. And lastly, she seemed to have 
conceived the idea that I, her teacher, criticised and con- 
demned her and had treated her with silent disdain. The 
awkward circumstances in connection with my hesitation 
to accede to the Banker’s proposal about bringing her 
home had evidently deepened this latter impression. 

“You are angry with me, Mr. Molson. I do not say 
unjustly, but you owe it to me to tell me why.” 

I assured her I was not and had only the kindest 
wishes for her happiness and welfare. 

“Then why did you break oflf my lessons on a ridicu- 
lous flimsy excuse?” she asked. “You did not wish to 
drive home with me to-night, and you showed it 
before a dozen of my friends, most plainly ! You were 
a genial friend up to a few weeks ago. Then suddenly 
you changed, and at the close of the lessons, seized your 
hat and gloves and fled as though fearful of my presence. 
Since then you avoid me, and to-night wounded my pride 
in public. Had I acted properly I should have declined 
to force my company upon you, but I obeyed father’s 
counsel hoping you would tell me how I had offended 
you. 

“I know you do not like my life and I know it is a 
frivolous and unworthy one, but I must be even worse 
than I suspect to deserve such open and repeated slight 
and discourtesy.” 

She spoke calmly, yet with a measure of quiet feel- 
ing, as one would to a friend in gentle reproach. 

“I cannot explain, Miss Ashton,” I said in some 
trepidation. “You know we often act without reason. 

I did want to come and for one reason I did not want to 
come. I hope you will not urge me to say why. Believe 
me, without explanation, it was consistent with the high- 
est respect for you. I would do all in my power to add 
to your happiness. I am sorry, but you misunderstood 
me,” and with this lame conclusion I had to stop for I 
really knew not what to say. 

187 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


When she replied, which was after some moments of 
silence, she spoke slowly and sadly, and with a patient 
sort of resignation that touched me deeply. 

“I am beginning to think I cannot understand any 
one,” she said. “I feel doubtful if any one understands 
me. All of my life of late seems full of mystery and 
unexplainable and unaccountable things. My father, 
great and good man that he is, is full of enigmas in 
words and manners and action and I puzzle my poor 
brain over them in vain. Lucille, the best and most 
loving woman I know, is unable or unwilling to explain 
many strange things in our lives at Ashton Hall — at least 
not now, but hopes to explain them some day. My own 
nature puzzles me. I am losing interest in many things 
that delighted me and find myself so thoroughly dissatis- 
fied with myself and my own surroundings, that life is 
losing much of its enjoyment. I am realizing that life 
ought to be much more than I have made of it and how 
little I have learned, and how little I have done, and I 
seem like one in the dark groping to find the light. Then 
you, like the rest of those connected with the house or 
bank, you, my teacher and friend, for such you were a 
short time ago, become capricious and refuse to teach 
me, and in unnumbered ways in the last two months have 
shown your disdain, and tonight in presence of my 
friends said, said as plainly as actions could say any- 
thing, ‘T wish I could decently get out of driving Miss 

Ashton to W e.” And all this you and others ask 

me to take as a matter of course and without explana- 
tions ! Put yourself in my place, Mr. Molson. You are 
sensitive as I am (and we are both orphans, adopted and 
reared through the kindness of our friends— did you ever 
think of that?). Be my good friend and explain. I do 
not say I am worthy the confidence of Papa Ashton and 
Lucille and yourself but I try to be ” 

There was just a suggestion of difficulty in speaking. 
I looked at her and on her long, dark eye-lashes I saw 
tear drops trembling. 

How I wanted at that moment to explain my con- 
duct, declare my love and to beseech her pity and com- 
passion as she seemed to appeal for mine. 


i88 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


'‘I cannot explain, I cannot explain to you my un- 
worthy conduct of tonight, much as I regret it. Forgive 
it and forget it.'' 

^^Then I know that you condemn me and you think 
me either unworthy of an explanation or incapable of 
understanding you." 

“Neither the one nor the other," I cried, “I have too 
many faults myself to condemn others. Mrs. Williams 
taught me " 

“Oh, if I had had such an instructor as Mrs. 
Williams, such an example, such an inspiration I might 
have developed a nobler character too. I had to imbibe 
my ideals in life from salaried governesses and my 
rules of conduct from the inmates of fashionable schools 
for women. If I do not measure up to the highest 
standard, perhaps I should rather be pitied than con- 
demned." 

I was silent before this arraignment, but at length I 
mustered courage to ask her to accept my word that 
what had influenced my conduct was fully consistent 
with the highest respect for herself and admiration of 
her character and with my best and most cordial good 
wishes. 

“I accept your statement as you give it, but I must 
ever believe your conduct most unjust to me, though 
not intentionally so, notwithstanding good wishes and 
good intentions." 

She gave me her hand and the matter was dropped 
so far as conversation was concerned. 

Then I started in on student life at Leipsic, dis- 
coursed on German teachers and students, contrasting 
the ideals and methods in music there with tnose in 
America, till we reached Ashton Hall. I think she 
must have seen I desired not only to close up the former 
topic of conversation but also all matters that related to 
either of us personally. She listened with patient at- 
tention and I presume grew more puzzled than ever over 
my motive and purpose. 

As I handed her out she stood for a moment on the 
door step in the mellow moonlight, looked up at the 
moon riding in majesty in the heavens and said, as if 

189 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


soliloquizing/ ‘I wonder if we live after this life is over 
and if we will know ourselves and our friends any 
better there than we do now !” 

I was silent, my lips refusing to obey my will. I sat 
taking into my eyes and heart the beautiful picture she 
made as she gazed upward — a picture I shall carry with 
me through life. I wondered too, if the future life had 
its temptations as she had wondered if it had its enig- 
mas, for us. 

“You are leaving the city soon, I hear,” she said, to 
my great surprise. 

“Yes,” I stammered, “next week I go lo Germany 
again.” 

“Will you call again at Ashton Hall?” she said. 

“I fear not, I am extremely busy.” 

“Then this is good-bye?” 

“I fear it must be. Miss Ashton, under all the cir- 
cumstances.” 

“We part good friends,” said she, “but you have 
made me think I must be very wicked and have pained 
me much but you have taught me many things for 
which I thank you. Good bye!” 

She turned a parting glance upon me as she entered, 
just a glance, and the light of life for me seemed to go 
out with the closing of that door. 

Herbert was waiting for me in our sitting room 
and as I walked in he came and grasped my hand and 
looked into my eyes as I stood there weak and trembling 
with the mental strain of that hour’s ride upon me, and 
looked his questions into my eyes. 

“I have not spoken,” I said, “I never told her but I 
love her more than ever. I have fought the great battle 
of my life,” and I told him the story. 

He listened attentively and then putting his arms 
about me said, “Herman, my lad, you did nobly. The 
worst is over.” 


W e, N. Y., Dec. 31st, 1906. 

Alas! Alas! for human resolutions. I have fallen, 
miserably, shamefully fallen from the lofty principles 


190 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I had chosen to follow. I am like some bruised and 
mangled Alpine traveller looking up from the valley in 
his pitiful suffering to the lofty but narrow path by 
which he hoped to reach the summit. I have fallen and 
the sharp rock of remorse has pierced my side and my 
heart and hope seem dead within me. 

All the fight of the past few weeks in vain! All 
Herbert’s praises unmerited, my own self-respect laid 
low — all by a hopeless and mad avowal of love which 
should have been known and recognized by me at the 
first and crushed out of my heart and life in its be- 
ginning! I have broken faith with Mark Ashton. I 
have spurned the counsel of my own father and the 
disinterested advice of my ‘Unknown Friend’ — and all 
for what? To win my own humiliation and lose my 
own honor, in a mad avowal of my hopeless infatuation 
for Helena. 

But I will be just, even to myself, as nearly as my 
fevered brain can recall and my trembling hand can 
record it. I will set down what has occurred, fairly and 
fully, on this eventful day. 

God is my witness that I meant to adhere to my 
resolve and that in the moments of that madness that 
came upon me in Ashton Hall today, I forgot for the 
time, every injunction and counsel that had reached me 
from my father and my friend, forgot even that Mark 
Ashton lived, forget for a time that there was a being 
in the universe to whom I owed devotion or duty, but 
one. I thought, too. that the fight was over and the 
temptation passed, and I was sure of victory over my 
mad delusion, till — ^but I will not anticipate. 

I had my things all packed for the journey when I 
remembered a little volume of choice poems Mrs. WiF 
Hams had given me as a birth-day present and which 
Miss Lucille had borrowed and not returned. It was 
so dear to me I resolved to call and ask her for it, and 
on doing so learned that Miss Lucille was out. but not 
till the maid had in her zeal announced my request for 
the book to Miss Ashton, and a moment after Helena 
came in with it in her hand. She was still very pale and 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


had a painful expression about the eyes which I was sorry 
to note. She greeted me very quietly saying : 

“I did not anticipate the pleasure of seeing you 
again or, shall I say the pain of parting with you again ?” 

“But why should you say pain of parting?” I asked. 
“You have so many, many acquaintances and such a 
multitude of friends, one can scarcely be missed.” 

“We have many acquaintances but few real friends 
in life, so few we miss one true friend, and I believe 
you are such, though your actions at times have seemed 
decidedly unfriendly.” 

“I am proud to know I have been numbered among 
your good friends even if my conduct has annoyed or 
pained you at times and I cannot give a satisfactory 
explanation. Friends must sometimes trust each other 
and ignore explanations that would be necessary between 
strangers. I hardly think, however, I deserve so high 
an honor as the term of friend.” 

“I am going to be frank and candid with you now,” 
she said, “since I have this unexpected privilege, especi- 
ally since I reproached myself for silence before” — and 
after a brief pause, but with little efifort she went on. 
“There can surely be no wrong and nothing indelicate 
in my telling you how much you have helped me, in 
many ways. We part today and I may not have again 
an opportunity of being just to you and acknowledging 
a debt of gratitude I owe you, even if at times you have 
seemed unjust or even cruel. I hardly know how to 
say it, but in many ways your life in the past few 
months has influenced mine and I think for good. It 
was not your words alone — for we have never had much 
speech together, though the new views of life and duty 
I have heard you give from Mrs. Williams’ teachings 
have set me thinking deeply of myself and what life 
means, and how I could make the most and best of it. 
It was — pardon me if I seem personal — rather your- 
self. I found you cared not for the things I prized 
most in life. You scorned the mere show and glitter 
and fashion and folly of a world in which I gloried as 
the child delights in glittering toys. At first you annoyed 
and piqued my pride. I saw you were so different from 


192 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

the people I was accustomed to meet. You lived in 
another world of thought, and purpose and emotion. 
You did not flatter ; your speech was plain and simple 
and without fashionable lies; your life seemed full of 
purpose and of good endeavor. You loved truth and 
sincerity and honor and these principles of conduct 
would not bend to custom and self-interest; you were 
interested in other people, the poor and friendless and 
were willing to defend them; you were not afraid even 
of the great Banker and could tell him to his face your 
convictions of his wrong-doings. 

“Do you think that when as your pupil 1 was per- 
mitted to hear such views and see such principles ex- 
emplified in your life — so novel and so interesting, I 
could be uninfluenced by them?” 

“Do you wonder, Mr. Molson, that your life be- 
came, all unconsciously to you no doubt, a mirror in 
which I saw the emptiness and utterly unsatisfactory 
character of my own? 

“Do you wonder if a revolution of my thought and 
a transformation of my inner self has been going on in 
my nature? 

“Can you wonder that I am dissatisfied with my 
past and my present life and hoped, yes ardently longed, 
for better things ? 

“And so, owing so much to you I had to either fol- 
low the lines of fashionable reticence laid down for 
young ladies in speaking to a gentleman, or overcome 
my shrinking sensitiveness and satisfy my sense of truth 
and justice by telling you how much, how very much, 

I owe to your words — and to yourself !” 

She paused and for the first time looked me in the 
face, her countenance, her lustrous eyes beaming with a 
new light and her voice vibrant with emotion. 

What could I say? I could not have spoken for the 
world. I was astonished, bewildered, delighted and 
overwhelmed with this dawning of a nobler life in the 
girl I loved, with this spiritual beauty that was budding 
for its coming bloom in her character and with the sweet 
pentence of her confession and the boldness of her 
avowal. 


193 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Yet, notwithstanding all this frank, and doubtless 
sincere, confession on her part there was a pain, bitter 
as death at my heart. I knew full well despite all her 
words of praise, flattering as they were, there was not 
in all of these avowals the scintilla of a hope on Miss 
Ashton’s part that we should ever meet again. It was 
our parting and she knew it and she could well aflford 
plain speech. It was the fact of parting that made this 
kind of language a possibility. 

It was because there was no hope for me, because 
in all this awakening of her higher life there was self- 
knowledge, self-pity, penitence and a dawning spirit- 
uality and a sense of shame over misspent opportunities, 
but no tenderer thought, that she dared to speak so 
plainly, so justly, so boldly. She sat in silence a moment 
and went on : 

“You have done so much for me, I thought you 
might do more, even if you did despise me and the life 
I led. I was hungry to learn more of those things which 
came to you through Mrs. Williams’s lips, and so I 
prized the lessons for opportunity I might have of 
learning from you something more about the nobler 
ways of living, and of catching that inspiration one 
earnest soul can give to all with whom it comes in 
contact. 

“I wanted to tell you all these things and express 
my thanks — one feels so much nobler when you acknowl- 
edge a just debt of gratitude, as I did once to you on 
Chestnut Island, do you remember? — but you ga’‘^^ me 
no opportunity on our return the other night from “The 
Willows.” 

“I wanted you to know that your life had blessed my 
own and then I wanted to earn your respect and con- 
quer your contempt for me. But these past few months 
have been full of keenest suffering to me. I have been 
waking up to this revelation of life’s meaning and to a 
bitter sense of how I have been misusing my grand op- 
portunities, and have grown so sick of my past life and 
the little world of fashion and of folly in which I live, 
and so discouraged at times with myself, yet all this 
time I have been urged on and on and on in the whirl- 


194 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


pool of society and have felt that I never needed so 
many friends — and I never seemed to have so few” — 
there was a sob in the liquid notes and I saw her eyes 
were moist with tears — “never so few! Lucille is of 
late all mystery and mirth. Will not listen to my sor- 
rows. She sees an end of all in a few days. And Mr. 
Ashton, a noble and misunderstood man, is mad, raving 
mad on an idea. So I looked about for help and sym- 
pathy and thought as you were my teacher — kind and 
good heretofore — you would help me, show me the 
path, the better way of life, and help me get a little of 
the heavenly harmony of true happiness and joy into 
my poor sad life” — she turned away with a look of suf- 
fering on her face — “and then, you, somehow, turned 
against me, dropped me as your pupil, and roughly 
shook me off ” 

“Oh, Miss Ashton,” I cried, “God knows I did not 
mean ” 

“No matter, no matter now. I have been just and 
told you all I owe to you. Some day I may be worthier 
of esteem and friendship. It may encourage you, when 
far away and in the coming years to know your life 
could reach and help regenerate a life so cold and use- 
less as my own has been. Try and not despise me but 
think of me as trying to be good and to do good. Per- 
haps, if you knew all my life, and all I have and all I 
am to suffer, and what efforts I have made, a nature 
as kind and generous as yours, in place of cold contempt 
would give — me — pity.” and turning she held out her 
hand with averted face and said, “Farewell, Mr. 
Molson.” 

Then it was — as I took her hand and gazed into her 
lovely face and tear-bedimmed eyes — it seemed as 
though a tide of burning emotion poured over my being. 
My frame shook with the surging flood of feeling. My 
voice could only articulate : 

“Pity you? Pity you? Helena Ashton, God knows I 
need your pity more.” 

She turned quickly and scanned my face with 
wonder as she asked : 

“You need my pity more — and why?” 


195 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Then it was I forgot my lonely past, my poverty, my 
honor, my principles of lofty manhood. All, all were 
swallowed up in mighty wave of passion that poured 
itself over me till I remembered naught, thought of 
naught, and realized only that the woman I loved, fair 
as a vision of heavenly beauty, yet in sorrow and tears, 
stood before me, and I must declare my love, and seizing 
her two hands I gazed into her eyes and said : 

‘T shall tell you why you should pity me. Because I 
love you. I love you. I love you, madly and hopelessly. 
I love you, Helena Ashton.” 

She gave a little cry of astonishment and affright 
and turned her face away. 

have loved you since I first saw you,” I went on, 
“though I knew it not till it came as a revelation flashed 
in an instant upon mind and heart, one night on leaving 
you. Heaven knows I have suffered and I thought to 
spare you the annoyance and me the pain and despair 
of this hour. 

“I knew I could not hope, but your sorrow, your 
loneliness, your sweet penitence, your gratitude for what 
you thought I had done for you, and your appeal for 
sympathy and help overcame me. I must, I will tell you 
how madly I worship you. Your face, your eyes, your 
name, your presence is ever before me night and day. 
****** I could not endure this and be near you, day by 
day, in teaching you. I was going away — fleeing from 
you as from a fire that would consume me. I was going 
that I might not be tempted to ask your love — and I 
fought so hard — so hard — the last few weeks for I knew 
I ought not to speak — and I thought I had won — I was 
not to look upon your face again — I was sure I had 
conquered my passion, and I knew it was hopeless to 
speak .” 

I turned to look upon her face — it was pale as the 
face of the dead, and she was trembling and sinking as 
I led her to the sofa and sat beside her. 

Then I watched the color come to her cheek and a 
light into her eyes and she spoke in low, sweet voice and 
said: “I shall always be glad and thankful I have 
known you — always grateful. There is no hope — ^yet 

iq6 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I shall always be glad you have spoken. Now we can 
pity and pray for each other. Leave me, Herman, 
leave me.” 

I saw the agony upon her face, the mute appeal in her 
eyes. I stopped and kissed her, and my grief found voice 
in a little cry of anguish, when the door of the parlor 
opened and Mark Ashton stood before us. 

Then the full enormity of my folly and madness in 
a flash passed before me. He walked to the center of 
the room and ignoring my presence, in mild voice but 
firm, hard countenance asked: 

“And has Mr. Molson done you the great honor, my 
daughter, to propose to marry you?” 

I s^w her trembling, whether from fdar of the 
Banker, or from the greatness of the crime I had com- 
mitted from Mark Ashton’s point of view, or from 
some other emotion I could not say. 

Both of us were silent. I stood petrified by the first 
clear view of the situation as seen by the Banker. Then 
he continued: 

“Will either of you be good enough to answer — Oh, 
pardon me. I am intruding. I had no thought the 
drawing room was occupied until I opened the library 
door and became an unwilling listener. Then I thought 
it was my duty to enquire what was disturbing my 
daughter’s peace and happiness.” Then turning to me in 
politest, yet most exasperating tones, he asked cooly: 

“Do I understand you made an offer of your hand 
and fortune, Mr. Molson?” 

The cool politeness of the man, the quiet, cutting 
sarcasm under which he veiled his words of condemna- 
tion, the half-formed smile about his lips, as though he 
enjoyed my pain and double discomfiture, overwhelmed 
and maddened me. 

“I hope sir,” I answered hotly, “it is not a crime to 
love Helena Ashton. I love her” and I said it proudly 
“as a man can love but one woman in all the world and 
I told her of my love and I glory in it.” 

“You seem to have forgotten the very definite un- 
derstanding between us as gentlemen, when you were 


197 


The Mystery of Ashton Ha!l 


admitted as teacher to my home,” said he in measured 
and severe tone. 

“I did not forget it — till this hour — I fought my 
passion manfully till today — then calling to see Miss 
Lucille I met her — unexpectedly met her — and found 
her in sorrow and trouble. I was overcome by her 
beauty, intoxicated by her charms, sympathized with her 
trouble and melted by her tears, and my restraint gave 
way. My emotions rose up as a flood and swept away 
reason, honor, fidelity I .” 

"‘Then you confess, I understand that vou violated 
the trust I reposed in you, have proved unworthy ” 

Helena. sprang from the sofa with a cry, ‘‘Oh, it was 
all my fault. I did not dream that Mr. Molson loved 
me. I thought he despised and condemned me. He 
called for his book from Lucille and I detained him — I 
tempted him unknowingly. I was so sad, so discouraged 
with myself. I told him how his words and his life had 
helped me to better thought and living. His principles 
of honor and fidelity ” 

“Oh yes,” cried the Banker raising his voice in irony, 
as he pointed his finger at me, while the old evil look of 
avarice swept over his hard face “his principles of honor 
and fidelity,, his affection, his love. How much had 
Mark Ashton’s gold to do with his affections? Bah! A 
young man of honor who knows the meaning of the 
word duty and what is due between man and man would 
not seek under pretense of accident to captivate an 
heiress and capture a fortune !” 

I sprang to seize him by the arm, but Helena was 
before me and stood facing the Banker with such a look 
as I had never seen upon her face before, a look beneath 
which he, strong man that he is, quailed and turned away 
his eyes. She spoke slowly: 

“Utter one word more aspersing the character of 
Herman Molson and I, sir, leave Ashton Hall never to 
set foot in it again.” Then threw herself exhausted on 
the sofa. He was turning again to leave when I seized 
him by the shoulders. 

“Sir,” I said, swinging the strong mah round to face 
me “not another word will I listen to heire. Your 

198 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

charges are false as if a demon had framed them — as 
infamous as if conceived in hell. In another way and 
in another place, I will refute them before I leave this 
place forever.” 

Then I saw his face aglow with strange light, and 
knew that it must be violent passion which excited it on 
this occasion. I released my hold upon him and he 
wished me a courtly good night and was gone. 

She lay upon the sofa, her bosom heaving with the 
violent emotions of the scene but with such a light still 
shining in her tear-dimmed eyes as I had never seen there 
before. 

“Helena,” I said, “forgive me the great sorrow I have 
brought to you.” 

“You have much more to forgive,” she answered. 
“That is all we can do — forgive and try to forget.” 

I stooped and kissed her forehead and uttered a word 
of farewell love. 

She looked up at me as I turned away but her 
trembling lips uttered no word of farewell. 

As I passed from the room I heard Mark Ashton in 
strangely quiet tones calling, “Helena, my child, let me 
speak to you one word, dear.” 

The wintry sun was setting in a halo of glory as I 
passed noiselesly out of Ashton Hall. 

Mine had gone down already in darkness and the 
mists of tears. 

I have just completed this entry — have been writing 
almost steadily since I came home from Ashton Hall. 

My whole nature is profoundly stirred. 

Mark Ashton’s bitter words have set every nerve 
tingling with indignation. I long to tell him to his face 
what I could not in her presence. He will soon be in 
his office. I shall go direct and face him there. I will 
not justify myself — I cannot — ^but he shall know the 
truth — I will hurl his false words back at him and I 
shall tell the money-mad Banker of the crimes he has 
committed. Yes, “crimes” is none too strong a word. He 
has coined money out of the hearts of the suffering 
poor. He spares not even those he loves in fulfilling 
his mad ambitions. He gambles daily to win wealth and 


199 


The Mystery of Ashton Hal! 


and a high place among the rich and the aristocratic and 
the hearts of men and women are his pawns. He is 
consigning to a living death the woman I love. He is 
mad — a human monster — and the world were better off 
if he were dead. 

W e, 9:15 P. M. Dec. 31st, 19 — . 

I will set 'down the record now while I can recall 
every word, every look, every tone of his voice, in my 
memorable interview with Mark Ashton tonight. 

He received me with a cool politeness, an icy courtesy, 
that forbade all expectations of a pleasant interview and 
wanted to know to what he was indebted for '‘the honor 
of this call.’’ 

"Mr. Ashton,” I said, "after my interview with your 
daughter today and after my words to you some ex- 
planations and an apology are due you. I regret my 
words, however, justifiable they seemed at the time. I 
am convinced that no matter what the provocation I 
should never have addressed you as I did — and in your 
daughter’s presence.” 

Still he sat in perfect silence immovable as a statue. 

"I beg you to believe me. I swear to you I had no 
more thought of avowing my love for Helena Ashton 
before the moment the words broke from my lips than 
I had of taking my own life. I was hiding the secret 
of my heart most zealously. I did not seek but shunned 
her. I was arranging — Herbert Williams will tell you — 

to leave W e in a day or two for good. My sole 

offense and one for which I grieve tonight is that when 
I found myself under such strong temptation and my 
emotion mastered me I did not leave her. But she, 
presuming I was offended with her and despised her, 
sought to justify herself in part as she valued my esteem 
and thought my words and life had helped her — not 
dreaming I loved the very earth she trod, the flowers 
she touched — and that her name, her voice, her face 
were worshipped by me every hour. 

"I should have left her but, God in Heaven! when 
she told me how I had helped her and sought to remove 


200 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

my severe judgment and disdain and I saw her face 
and tear-dimmed eyes, and heard her voice break as she 
told of her life’s trouble and heart-ache — Heaven help 
me! I could not restrain my speech. My words leaped 
unbidden from my lips and I forgot she was the heiress 
of Ashton Hall and l a homeless orphan. Mark Ashton,” 
said I, looking now in the face which had grown sud- 
denly pallid and pain-stricken '‘Mark Ashton, I would 
go through the agony of the past few months again, I 
would go through the floods and fire to enjoy again the 
luxury, hopeless though it may be — of looking into her 
face once more and telling her my love!” 

I saw his face change expression several times — a 
twitching of the muscles, and his averted look told me 
something had profoundedly moved the Banker — and I 
stepped forward and laid my hand upon his shoulder 
and said: 

“Mark Ashton, did you ever love a woman as I love 
Helena? Speak, for if you did, you cannot condemn 
me!” 

I thought he was sinking in a faint — he ceased 
breathing and then gasped as though something were 
choking him or he was suffocating — then rose and asked 
me to excuse him for a moment and rushed up the steps 
and across to his library. He was gone for five minutes 
as I noted by the little clock upon a mantel shelf. When 
he returned he was himself again — cool, polite and un- 
approachable as ever. 

Mr. Molson would pardon his abruptness in leaving 
him. He was subject — though he hoped it would never 
be mentioned — to slight attacks of heart trouble and had 
been, perhaps, overworking. He was now fully restored 
and would be glad to hear further what Mr. Molson had 
to say. 

“I have made ample apology for my words to you. 
It is now time to hear what excuse or apology you can 
make for your cruelly false statements and insinuations. 
You spoke as though I sought your filthy gold. Know 
you that I despise your millions. They could not tempt 
me — all the women of the world — even beautiful 
Helena — could not induce me to touch a farthing of 


201 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the money you have got by extortions and oppression 
of the poor. 

“If Helena Ashton were not cursed with wealth I 
would seek her hand through fire or flood — and — I be- 
lieve she would marry me ” 

“Marry you!’' broke out Mark Ashton in a low 
cynical laugh, “Marry you, with a score of eligible 
suitors at her feet and scions of aristocracy from the 
old world seeking her hand ! Pray what claim have you 
upon her hand and fortune?” 

I was angry. I stood erect before him and said 
proudly : 

“Mark Ashton, I well know the world’s opinion of 
wealth and position and I despise it. Strip away these 
extraneous matters — the chance of birth and sport of 
fortune — and let Helena Ashton’s mind and heart de- 
cide and I, poor and unknown and homeless, will enter 
the lists with all her suitors and win her for myself. In 
manhood I will take no second place with sons of wealth 
or scions of nobility. Of course I have never enter- 
tained a hope. I know your mad ambitions, your miserly 
avarice and that you would crush her heart if she loved 
a poor man rather than forego them.” 

He had for an instant a queer expression on his face. 
If I had seen him at another time or under other circurn- 
stances I should have said it was a look of pleasure — ^but 
it faded instantly and the old hard look came back — as 
he cried out: 

“Oh, fie! Mr. Molson do you for one moment 
imagine Helena Ashton could care for you — save as ' a 
casual friend — or that if she did and if she loved you 
madly as you profess to love her, do you think she 
would ever dream of marrying you? Miss Ashton is 
a girl of too much intelligence, she has been too well 
trained in social ethics, and knows too well what belongs 
to birth and position to pay undue attention to what you 
call love. She knows too well that in her high social 
rank what society expects, what the world at large ex- 
pects, and that I expect her., to make a suitable choice of 
life companion. She will never marry one not fully her 
equal. 


202 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“I fear you flattered yourself that because she took 
a gracious interest in you as her teacher she might, under 
other circumstances, regard you as her -equal. You 
evidently place a high valuation on yourself. I presume 
you have no thought of further addressing her?” 

No sir, I said quietly “I never had a hope from the 
beginning. I have none now. I shall never broach the 
subject again to her.” 

“It is well. You forgot yourself, forgot your engage- 
ment with me and disappointed me in your conduct. I 
hope you will live up to honor and principle hereafter.” 

And you, Mark Ashton,” I added in reply, “remem- 
ber if through your insane ambition, your lust of power 
and wealth, you make shipwreck of her fair life and 
happiness, I and others will hold you responsible. She is 
a slave of wealth and circumstances, a prisoner in a 
pala,ce, and you are her captor and jailer. I believe you 
are crushing her heart and hope by your ambition. Be- 
ware — ^you will reap what you have sown. Let this 
warning haunt you day and night till the hour of your 
death, Mark Ashton” and I was gone. 

It was exactly nine o’clock by the mantel clock as I 
walked out of Mark Ashton’s private offlce. 

Surely there must be a judgment day, or some 
avenging Nemesis for those who murder the souls of 
men, if those who murder human bodies are worthy of 
punishment. 

P. S. As I walked away from the office up the steps 
to the main hall I heard the swishing of a dress as in the 
lower hall and an agitated quick footstep. Shortly after 
I heard a door open and close as though some one were 
escaping. 

P. S. When I reached the outer door and was turn- 
ing away, Helena Ashton’s pale face peered into the main 
hall from the parlor door for an instant and was gone. 

It is all over. I have awaked from a feverish dream, 
in which there were some sweet visions, to life’s cold, 
stern, bitter reality. 

I told Herbert my story — the story of my downfall 
— my interviews with the Banker and my penitent hope- 
lessness. He said not a word in condemnation. I could 


203 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


see his eyes moisten in sympathy and I knew he feels 
the coming separation. Oh, in all the world there are 
only two it seems to me, who can enter into my grief 
and sympathize, Herbert and his blessed mother. 

Herb knows I fought a good fight — until today. My 
packing is about finished. All going well, I am off to- 
morrow evening. This will be my last entry in W e. 

:jc sK ♦ sK * 

Oh, horror of horrors! Herb has just come and 

told us. Mark Ashton is shot — dying in the very office 
where I left him a short time ago — a bullet wound in his 
right temple — sitting at his table. Oh, God! My brain 
is on fire — Who could have done it? Not the watchman 
— not Parish who is out of town — could sudden madness 
have seized Oh, no, no, no. 

Herb has been down to see him. He was shot while 
sitting at his desk. They found him with his head rest- 
ing on his arm — ^breathing heavily. They have car 

Herbert wanted me to go down. Oh no, no — it would 
kill me. 

I feel a choking sensation. My brain throbs — and 

my nerves are tracks for the hot feet of pain — Oh, that 
I was a thousand miles from this accursed W e. 

If I could escape from life itself but the dread of 

something after death. Oh, loving mother in heaven ! 

If I could but escape to your arms! Herb forbids my 
going to “The Willows,'’ — he says it would be madness 
till the preliminary examination is over — Some will 
think I have murdered the Banker. My God ! the cup is 
more than I can bear! Yes, I must stay — but every 
moment is freighted with agony — every nerve of my 
body seems quivering under the lash of pain. 

“The Willows,” Jan. 9th, 18 . 

Have been here nearly a week and very sick. Nursed 
back to life by Mrs. Williams and her two daughters. 
Heaven alone can repay them. I seem like one 
awakened from a frightful nightmare — the dreadful 
strain and excitement of that last day of the year — the 


204 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


bitter interview just before his murder— the alternate 
hope and fear of those dreadful days— all, all come back 
to me again, after the fever and unconsciousness, 
and I feel again those sharp tremors of 
the nerves and quivering sensations of pain 
in my head, but not so distinctly as I did. I suffer 
less because I now dream a great deal — even sitting in 
this arm chair I can close my eyes and my early days 
come back more distinctly than ever before. I have been 
back to the early days here with Herbert and Laura and 
Maude as children. We have been romping again over 
the lawn — chasing butterflies, gathering flowers, picking 
apples and playing our childish games. Back, back and 
still farther the book of memory has unrolled, and now 
while I sit here with eyes fast closed a white mist 
gathers in the far corner of the room and out of that 
mist, which first thickens and then opens out, I see again 
— Oh, so plainly — the calm sweet face of “Aunty May’' 
and the other face propped up among the pillows long, 
long ago. I see that face that was half hidden in the 
pillows as I saw it in my childhood, the same yet not the 
same. Now it has such a glow of health and youthful 
loveliness and, Oh, the light in those eyes, the light of my 
mother’s love. I know it is she — and with her many 
others — others — many others. 

Herb has just come to my room to announce two 
strangers from town to see me. I know who they are — 
police. I feel it in my heart — they have come to torment 
me with more questions — perhaps to take me prisoner. 
God knows. Oh, that I could die and escape this torture. 
Mother in Heaven pity me, pity me! I must — hide — 
this’^* 


(Mr. Molson’s Journal is very indistinct and much 
blurred here. J. G. H.) 


205 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


SICKNESS AND DEATH OF MARK ASHTON. 

John Gibson Hume. 

In resuming the narrative, I may inform the kind 
reader I have no intention of attempting to give in detail 
the various stages of Mark Ashton’s illness ending in his 
death and burial. 

Such details have always been abhorrent to my mind 
and the love of them I consider a morbid affection of 
human nature. Useful they may be to physicians and 
nurses but to people in health I consider them both un- 
necessary and naturally revolting. 

Not that there are not abundant data at hand — in 
the bulletins issued almost daily by the attendant physi- 
cians, some of whom were ever in attendance, and in the 
summaries of his condition and symptoms as they ap- 
peared in the W e press. The opinions of eminent 

specialists who were consulted and interviewed on this 
absorbing topic were from time to time given to the 
public. 

One word will suffice to express his general condi- 
tion during nearly three months that he lay hovering be- 
tween life and death: sinking. 

He was a man of iron constitution, indomitable will 
and had strong attachments to this life. 

I hold the view — and so does my minister and my 
wife also agrees with it — that a man who loves life and 
has work yet unfinished which he is anxious to do and 
is greatly attached by affection to his fellow mortals, 
has a greater hold on life and is more apt to survive in 
a crisis than people who would just as soon die as live. 
I’ve met other people who rather seemed to want to go — 
had things all packed up — and thought that death was 
very dilatory and neglectful in waiting upon them. 

The other kind, like Mark Ashton, seem like some 
plants hard to pull up. If the reader has ever done any 
transplanting he will know just what I mean. Some 


206 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


plants get such a slight hold on the soil you can pull 
them up, with little effort: others seem to grip the soil 
in all directions and when they do come up you nave 
to break their roots or pull up a lot of soil with them. 
Mark Ashton did not want to die just when he was shot 
— he had plans maturing, interests of various nature that 
were reaching a climax, and he fought hard and long 
before he finally succumbed. 

I believe teachers of the New Psychology as it is 
called agree with me in these views. 

Of course everybody at the first believed he must die. 
But when some zealous reporter went to New York and 
consulted specialists in wounds of the brain and fortified 
the views obtained there by the opinions of our own 
physicians, they were able to make out a good case for 
possible recovery. 

My neighbor is a New Thought teacher and he said 
this reported deserved a medal. He had done the people 
a great favor in relieving the public mind from fear, and 
had by this report contributed powerfully to Mark 
Ashton’s possible recovery! I asked him how and he 
said : the thoughts of people in general, especially of his 
friends, would have a powerful influence on Mark Ash- 
ton and possibly be the determining factor in turning 
the balance between life and death. He begged me to 
see that this report got into the hands of the daughters 
at Ashton Hall and of his physicians. The report stated 
on authority of these specialists and was supported by 
statement of standard books in the library of the 
Surgeon General’s Hospital in Washington, that balls 
in the brain sometimes become encysted and the patient 
not only survived the wound, but the functions of mind 
and body become as perfect after as before the injury. 

Professor May of Washington was quoted as au- 
thority for the following case : A young man of i8 was 
wounded by an ounce ball which entered tne upper back 
portion of the skull, making an entrance through which 
the index finger could be inserted. The ball entered the 
brain and was lost. The location of the ball could not 
be traced yet there was complete and rapid recovery. 

Dr. Wm. Lloyd of Misouri reported the case of a 


207 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


lady of 1 8 who had experiences very similar, yet re- 
covered and became the mother of several children. The 
ball in this latter case was a small one and entered the 
left temporal bone and was lost in the brain. 

Reports also said balls had been known to pass 
through the brain from temple to temple without serious 
injury. 

All through the month of January the patient re- 
mained seemingly unconscious save on two occasions 
when he might or might not have regained partial con- 
sciousness for a brief period. Some faint words escaped 
his lips which could not be framed into perfect sentences 
but seemed to imply a desire to speak with Lucille and 
Helena. 

Early in February the mind grew clearer but his 
weakness was such the physicians feared the excitement 
of any attempted interview or even the sight of ms 
daughters, to both of whom he was deeply attached, 
might prove fatal. It was quite evident he was conscious 
at times, as the light of intelligence was in his eyes and 
he responded to some questions by pressure of the hand. 
So the weary weeks rolled on, and whether from weak- 
ness or partial paralysis his lips framed no complete sen- 
tence after the fatal bullet reached the brain. 

Early in March the physicians found his mind ap- 
parently more clear than since his sickness began. The 
eyes were particularly expressive of thought and his 
responses to questions were very prompt and intelligent 
for a time. 

From this peculiar conversation they learned by ques- 
tions and responsive signs that the Banker wished to see 
young Molson. He did not know, nor dare they inform 
him that Molson had been accused of attempted murder 
and imprisoned and had mysteriously escaped. Every 
effort was made to soothe his mind and keep it 
thoroughly calm and unruffled, so the physicians while 
promising young Molson should come, took special pains 
to divert his thought to other channels, and to see that 
he shortly afterwards forgot the subject in sleep-. 

A few days after while one physician whom the 


208 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Banker seemed to favor was out and the other sitting 
beside him, he looked about anxiously several times and 
when it was learned he wished the presence of the other 
doctor, he was speedily sent for. 

On his coming in the Banker expressed both joy and 
gratitude and he made an effort to speak. His words 
were so indistinct and low that by bending down over 
him tjhe doctor caught but two clearly— “Will” and 
“Herman” 

It was pathetic they said to witness his grief over 
his failure to make known his wishes. There came over 
his face and particularly to his eyes a look of such deep 
and hopeless sorrow that the physicians both turned away 
and wept. 

As the month began to wear away to its close, al- 
though there were occasional relapses into unconscious- 
ness, the periods of clear mentality were more frequent 
and continued longer, but there was at the same time no 
possibility of disguising the fact that his control of the 
bodily organs and his powers of expression were dimin- 
ishing from day to day. He lay often for hours with 
scarce any appearances of life save in his eyes and 
flickering breath. On the twenty-third about sunset the 
physicians found him rapidly sinking and for over half 
an hour there seemed to be no life save that the glass 
held over his face showed faint signs of moisture. He 
rallied from this, however, but had another sinking spell 
in the morning which lasted longer. In the afternoon he 
seemed resting quietly until almost sunset when he sank 
rapidly and after careful examination the two physicians 
pronounced life extinct. 

The services were fixed for the afternoon of the 
twenty-sixth in the library and drawing rooms — the Rev- 
erend Dr. Sutherland, Unitarian minister of this town, 
officiating. 

Neither of the daughters felt able to attend the serv- 
ices — all arrangements being made by the Ashcrofts, 
their neighbors and the funeral director, save that Helena 
chose the minister to officiate. When consulted she said 
“Papa Ashton was not a member of any of the churches : 
he did not subscribe to any of the creeds: but the 


209 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Unitarian Church I know was the one with which he was 
most closely in sympathy. Let Dr. Sutherland, then, be 
asked to officiate.” It is not my purpose to offer any 
comment on this selection, much as I regretted it. 

The services were very brief but exceedingly beautiful 
and impressive. A quartette sang three selections. Dr. 
Sutherland offered a fervent invocation for wisdom and 
strength for the living and spoke briefly on the new 
views of death. He spoke very tenderly and sympa- 
thetically of the daughters and the eyes of his auditors 
were moistened with the tears of sympathy. 

The Chamber of Commerce and the City Council at- 
tended in a body and great respect was paid to the 
Banker’s memory by all the professions, as well as the 
general public. 

Death levels all distinctions and generally quiets, for 
a time, at least, the aspersions of envy and malice as well 
as the repetition of idle gossip. “The good that men do 
lives after them; the evil is often interred with their 
bones.” Probably the public who had fiercely denounced 
Mark Ashton a few months ago thought of that state- 
ment, for there was no resentment, only quiet and re- 
spectful solemnity on the faces of the hundreds that 
lined the thoroughfares as his body was carried to Mt. 
Hope Cemetery, two miles from the city limits. 


\ 


210 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


STRANGE HAPPENINGS AT ASHTON HALL. 

John Gibson Hume. 

The tragic shooting of the Banker which reached its 
culmination in his death and burial, and the sudden and 
mysterious disappearance of the junior clerk, was fol- 
lowed in due time by occurrences about Ashton Hall that 
first excited mere comment and curious interest on the 
part of the public, rapidly deepening, however, into some- 
thing approaching awe and dread. 

The young clerk had disappeared almost as mysteri- 
ously as though the earth had opened and swallowed him 
up — the sole trace of him or of his clothing being the 
scarf and cap, known to have been among his posses- 
sions, found on the edge of the ice below the Wienowsky 
Falls, the bridge spanning them being called Wienowsky 
bridge. 

Affairs at the Bank which were suspended for a 
time, gradually assumed a normal condition under Mr. 
Parish’s direction, save that the volume of business was 
of course largely diminished and many of Mark Ashton’s 
personal friends were no longer regular depositors and 
callers at the Bank. The large number who personally 
prized the Banker for his geniality, wit and wisdom and 
his business ability, now mourned him as a great man 
gone to an untimely end. 

But on Ashton Hall it seemed as though perpetual 
night and gloom had settled. The doors of this once 
hospitable mansion were no longer open, even to the 
favored ones who were formerly invited guests or to the 
wider circle of acquaintances who would gladly have ten- 
dered their sympathy. The doors were locked, the 
shutters fastened and the public were given kindly but 
firmly to understand that the inmates wished to be alone 
with their sorrow. The large Hall seemed surrounded 
by a sombre spirit of desolation and loneliness. Passing 
the house frequently as I did in the day and evening, I 


2II 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


could but note the air of perpetual grief and sadness 
about the place. 

On enquiry I learned that none but a few chosen 
friends — the Ashcrofts and the Gibsons — were admitted. 
The heiress herself, it was said, was seriously ill and 
Aliss Lucille who a few months before had been the 
bright and happy personification of joy was slowly but 
surely sinking under the terrible blow. 

The shock of the father’s murder, then the long strain 
of anxious waiting during his critical illness ending in 
his death and burial, proved too much for her affectionate 
nature and she seemed likely to succumb. His death, 
despite his long illness, came as a cruel blow upon the 
sensitive nature of the younger daughter, and came, too, 
so soon after life’s happiness and hope seemed so nearly 
full to the brim, that it was feared for a time that brain 
fever would result and perhaps destroy her reason and 
life itself. 

As shown in the preliminary investigation the week 
preceeding the murder had been to both the Banker and 
Miss Lucille one of the happiest and of the highest 
hopes. They both seemed to be on the point of grasping 
the cup of happiness and enjoying it in fullest measure 
when, like a sudden eclipse at noon-day, the awful 
tragedy occurred. It must have been to Miss Lucille like 
falling from some lofty Alpine peak, glorified by sun- 
shine and brilliant prospect, suddenly into the depths 
of Cimmerian darkness. 

Whatever had been her hopes and secret aspirations, 
shared by the Banker and herself, death had doubtless 
put the seal of perpetual silence on her lips. In her 
lonely chamber she could only see the dismal present or 
the gloomier future, gloomier by the remembrance of 
what might have been. 

The large parlors received no guests and no longer 
re-echoed with music and laughter as of yore. The 
gates were growing rusty on their iron hinges and hun- 
dreds of the youth and beauty of W e were coming 

to think of Ashton Hall as a pleasant memory of a dead 
past. 

The sisters went out but little and seemed for some 


212 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

cause to shun all society. With the exception of the two 
families I have mentioned, the daughters of Ashton Hall 
had apparently forgotten the rest of the world. They 
did go out one afternoon, as I had good reason to know, 
but it was not to call socially but to make enquiries of 
the Chief of Police and of Thomas Jaffery. I was sum- 
moned by Captain Sloane to be present in his office and 
make careful stenographic notes of the conversation. It 
is needless to say my presence was not made known to 
the young women who had an appointment with the 
Chief. I presume he proceeded on the theory that as 
the murderer of Mark Ashton was still at large and the 
case still under investigation, he was bound by his duty 
to possess himself of every item of information and 
every statement that could throw the slightest ray of 
light upon the tragedy, and that some possible clue might 
be dropped, wittingly or unwittingly, by either of the 
young ladies, that would serve a useful purpose in the 

future investigation It will also be noted that the 

young ladies in their testimony in the preliminary 
investigation showed some discrepancies in their state- 
ments, some nervous agitation and some evident unwill- 
ingness to declare all they knew. These facts were quite 
sufficient in the Chief's mind to warrant a suspicion that 
they might be guilty of an attempt to screen some one 
they believed innocent who might be thrown under sus- 
picion. I saw the young ladies and took full notes of 
their speech but the young ladies did not observe me. 

They reached the Chiefs office about dusk, coming 
in a closed vehicle from Ashton Hall. They were both 
closely veiled, but on entering Miss Lucille quickly re- 
moved her veil and entered at once on the business of her 
errand. 

“Are we alone. Captain?" she asked nervously. 
“We wish our interview to be in the strictest confid- 
ence." 

“See for yourselves" said Captain Sloane, throwing 
open the two doors, “and be assured I will only be too 
happy to serve your interests in any way I can." 

“We are in great trouble, Captain Sloane, not onl^ 


213 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


from the awful tragedy of father’s death but because of 
a great wrong done to one who we hope is still living.” 

The Captain waited patiently until Miss Lucille had 
recovered from her emotion and regained her voice. 

“Captain Sloane, a great and perhaps irreparable 
wrong has been done to Herman Molson.” — I saw the 
Captain perceptibly change color at that name. — “and I, 
in part at least, am guilty of that great wrong. I can- 
not rest, I cannot sleep. I feel as though I could not 
live unless I can in some way undo that great wrong. 

“I am a helpless girl, prostrated with grief. You 
are a strong man and can do much and I believe you 
want to do right and will help me. So I’ve come to 
you. I want you to pity us and help us.” Here she be- 
came so agitated that Miss Helena rushed to her aid, 
put her arms about her and soothed her until she re- 
gained her composure. 

“My dear lady,” said the Captain and I knew from 
his voice his heart was touched, “how can I help you? 
My poor services are entirely yours to command.” 

“I want nothing in all the world so much as to find 
Herman Molson — if he is living — as I do hope and pray 
he is. I wronged him cruelly, greatly wronged him by 
my silence when I should have spoken. I put him to 
shame and disgrace and blighted the life of one of the 
best men living. 

“I did not realize it at the time — ^Heaven knows I did 
not intend it — I did everything for the be^t so far as 
I knew. I kept hoping for my father’s recovery, hoping, 
hoping on, till the awful hour came. Then it was too 
late. We had secrets, my father and I, harmless secrets 
that did not concern the world and I felt I must not 
utter them while father lived, till he gave permission, 
and now, God pity us, I can not undo the evil. It may 
be too late even to get his forgiveness !” 

“Then you disbelieve our theory that Herman Molson 
committed suicide?” 

“Oh, I cannot, I will not believe that. Heaven is still 
too merciful to permit that. It is only possible to think 
of his suicide if he were crazed with grief or shame. 


214 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


But I have my own good reasons — two of them — for be- 
lieving that he lives. I know neither of these reasons 
would appeal to you — ^but they comfort me. I feel that 
he lives and I believe our feelings are often a truer guide 
to trust than our attempted reasoning. Then my friend, 
Mrs. Williams, tells me that he lives and I shall yet see 
him. I should have lost reason and health, perhaps life 
itself, but for the comfort she has given me. And now 
I must find Herman IMolson or die in the attempt.” 

Then followed a lengthy argument on the part of 
the Chief to prove that Herman Molson was probably 
dead which I thought cruel and unnecessary under the 
circumstances. But to all of this Miss Lucille only re- 
plied : ‘T cannot answer your argument and will not at- 
tempt to. There are many seeming indications of his 
death and yet I feel he is living.” 

It was to me very pathetic to see this loving girl, 
smarting under her sense of her own supposed wrong- 
doing and pitying the unfortunate young man, who, 
whether guilty or innocent of the crime, was generally 
considered guilty. I was not sorry when the interview 

was over. , • r 

Miss Ashton, the heiress, did not speak to the Uiiet 
at all Occassionally she would move quickly, as though 
something the Chief said had hurt or frightened her. 
Only once did she lift her veil as she looked to my cor- 
ner of the room and when I saw her deep, dark eyes 
there was in them that look of patient pain I have seen 
in the eyes of suffering at death. ,.1 

After the interview, the young ladies went directly 
back to Ashton Hall, but on the next evening as I 
learned from Thomas Jaffery they called and had a 


similar interview with him. . tt 

Mr. Jaffery confessed to me his belief that Herrnan 
Molson was living, but steadily and firmly refused to give 
me any reason for his belief. To the young adies he 
took a more non-commital attitude, refusing out of pity, 
I think to entirely obliterate Miss Lucille’ hope, yet very 
carefully hiding from them his complete confident, as 
expressed to me, that Herman Molson was alive. Prob 


215 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


ably he feared, if he showed his hand fully, too much 
pressure upon himself and that he would be unable to 
hide from them facts he did not then wish to become 
public. He promised Miss Lucille, however, that he 
would call upon her soon and bring her the most joyful 
news she had ever received. I have no doubt this gen- 
tle woman interpreted that to relate to Herman Molson. 
And I am equally certain that Thomas Jalfery had an- 
other idea altogether in his mind. 

These visits over, Ashton Hall relapsed into its 
silence again and for months its two unfortunate oc- 
cupants were buried in its shadows till — the great change 
came. 

It is very fortunate that I can give the exact date 
when the change came over Ashton Hall and this once 
happy and hospitable place, was opened again to the light 
and air, and began once more to extend a cordial greet- 
ing to its friends as of old, many of whom had been 
deeply grieved over their long exclusion. 

The change came like the bursting of the sun from 
behind a dark cloud. Everyone noted it and it become 
at once the talk of the city. It occurred on the morning 
of the sixteenth of June. I am not trusting to memory 
alone. I have the testimonies of half a dozen of the 
neighbors, also that of the post-man and the new clerk 
in the bank. 

On the morning of this balmy, delightful day a trans- 
formation occurred not only in the Ashton Hall itself 
but also in the fair women who dwelt there. The beauti- 
ful and stricken women who for months had rested in 
the shadow of a great grief appeared at the windows and 
came out on the balcony and entered into the bank. They 
chatted with some eight or ten different people and, 
strange to relate, had discarded altogether the conven- 
tional weeds of mourning. They appeared in smart 
dresses suited to the season, had a smile and a cheerful 
word for all, and the Hall itself had more air and sun- 
hine on that morning than it had received for months. 
Doors were unlocked, shutters opened, and one heard 
again the sounds of music. 


216 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


It is true that everyone could see distinctly the traces 
of their suffering, but it was also true and patent to 
every observer that an expression of peace and content- 
ment was upon their faces, a light of hope and even of 
joy in their eyes and unmistakable happiness in their 
speech. 

This sudden change from the inconsolable grief of the 
past few months coming so suddenly and with such full- 
ness of evidence set everybody thinking, surmising and 
guessing as to its cause. 

What could happen, what had happened, now that 
their father and protector was gone, to restore to them 
and so suddenly the joy of life? 

Had the young women convinced themselves of the 
folly of indulging in hopeless grief, and, by a sudden and 
united effort, been able to drive away the shadows in one 
night ? 

This view, for lack of a better one, was accepted by 
many. But among others, especially those who were 
former visitors at Ashton Hall and were now again wel- 
comed, there prevailed the strong impression that some- 
thing more than an effort of the will, or a mere conviction 
of the uselessness of sorrow, must be found to account 
for the change in Ashton Hall and especially the change 
in the young women themselves. 

Some went so far as to assert that they saw in the 
faces of the women, heard in the ring of their voices, 
could distinguish in their walk and manner, abundant evi- 
dence that something of an exceedingly agreeable char- 
acter had occurred, or some very happy and joyful news 
had come to them, or before them must have opened 
some prospect so unusual and intensely pleasurable as 
to make them forget the sad experiences of the past six 
months. Whatever the explanation might be, the public 
soon settled down to the appreciation of the fact that 
Ashton Hall had recovered its old-time cheer and light 
and music, and something had happened to transform 
the lives of its inmates. 

This change in Ashton Hall and in the conduct of its 
denizens, is to be traced, as I have already said, definitely 
to the sixteenth of June and exactly one month later there 


217 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


began the first of a series of strange occurrences at the 
Hall and bank which soon excited even more attention 
than the circumstances detailed above. 

It was a new sensation and a most startling one which 
revived and intensified interest in this well-known family 
and set all the tongues of the quid nuncs and the wise- 
acres wagging afresh and with greater intensity. 

On the evening of July sixteenth, as Policeman Hugh- 
son was traversing his beat on Broad street, and passing 
the premises, he thought he heard some sounds as of some 
one moving about within the bank. The night was still, 
the streets almost deserted, and it was twelve o’clock as 
he remembered to have heard the bells just before his 
attention was called to the noises in the bank. He stepped 
from the sidewalk to the bank entrance, tried the front 
door and found it secure. He then passed round to the 
side door near the rear and found this also duly fastened 
and examined also the private entrance door. This was 
also locked. He came back and listened at the main en- 
trance. For some seconds he heard nothing and was about 
to pass on when he distinctly heard a drawer drawn out 
and soon after pushed back into place, and then there fol- 
lowed three distinct steps on the floor. From where he 
stood he judged the sound to proceed from the center of 
the bank and from the side nearest to Ashton Hall, which 
is about the location of Mark Ashton’s private office. 

Being now assured that someone was in the bank at 
this hour, and, probably, for purposes of robbery, he ran 
to the corner of Main and Broadway and summoned 
Policeman Donovan to his aid. 

Coming back the two of them heard additional sounds 
as of a chair moved, a book or other article seemed to 
have been deposited on a table, and three steps as of a 
heavy man repeated. Noticing from the outside that the 
upper shutters of the front window were not locked and 
that they had become separated an inch or more, jMr. 
Hughson mounted on the shoulders of his comrade and 
peering through the open space, declared he saw a tall 
man, seated at Mark Ashton’s desk and twice saw 
flashes of light, as from a pOcket or electric lamp. 

The sight of a man on the very spot of Mark Ashton's 

218 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


murder, alone and apparently at ease, on this scene uf 
blood, and bearing, as he thought in his excited imagina- 
tion, close resemblance to the form of the dead Ranker 
himself, threw Mr. Hughson into such violent emotion 
that he lost his balance and escaped a dangerous fall (^nly 
by the assistance of his friend. 

On recovering his self-possession, he told his com- 
panion what he had seen, or rather what he thought he 
had seen, and after a moment’s consultation they decided 
on a course of action and proceeded to put it into execu- 
tion. Crossing the streets they aroused the caretaker, 
Michael Hallaran, and secured the bank keys, also a key 
to the hallway between the bank and the residence, and 
coming back, they entered the bank, explored its every 
part and found no sign of any person or indication of 
anything having been disturbed in the office, so far as 
they were ablejo judge. They next proceeded to arouse 
the inmates of Ashton Hall, all of whom appeared to 
have been asleep at the time, and found none of them had 
seen or heard anything unusual. From the manner in 
which their reports were received the policemen gained 
the impression that the people of Ashton Hall thought 
some of the force had been imbibing too freely. 

They next proceeded to Mr. Parish’s apartments, and 
after arousing him and telling him their story, it was 
soon evident that Mr. Parish took a serious view of the 
situation. He questioned the policemen very fully and 
minutely and astounded them by the quiet and matter-of- 
fact way in which he alluded to supernatural happenings. 
^Tt’s the very hour,” he went on, “when ghosts walk.’^ 

The policemen, now recovered from their agitation, 
could scarcely believe their own ears. That a man bf 
Mr. Parish’s ability, an educated gentleman and a man 
of the world, a hard-headed business man and agent, 
moreover a Christian man, a convert of Mr. Moody s 
from Roman Catholicism in the old world, should so 
boldly and in such matter-of-fact way, refer to gl losts 
and treat a superstition so seriously, was to them almost 
incredible. 

“Do you believe in ghosts?” asked Mr. Parish. 


219 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Are we children or fools?” asked Mr. Hughson 
disdainfully, “to believe such yarns?” 

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” said Mr. Parish, “because 
I know that ghosts walk and haunt the living. I have 
proved it in other lands, known it for many years, and” 
dropping his voice, “why do you think I have taken new 
quarters? I used to lodge above the bank. I will lodge 
there no more. Mark Ashton’s ghost is in the bank. I 
have seen lights, heard sounds, had proofs. I have heard 
the drawer open and close, a book thrown down, the 
three steps taken, several times.” 

The policemen were astonished, not only at the belief 
expressed but also at the additional testimony in corro- 
boration of their theory that someone was robbing, or 
preparing to rob the bank, and had access in some way, 
to the bank at most unreasonable hours. They resolved, 
therefore, to report to Captain Sloane and Mr. Jaffery 
and have a full and early investigation. 

Before leaving him, Mr. Parish besought them to re- 
gard his statements as confidential and to refrain from 
mentioning his name in public or to the public authorities 
as he did not wish to be mixed up with the investigation. 

The public, however, got hold of one end of the skein 
and kept unravelling it till within a day or two the whole 
case was well known. After all is it so wonderful that 
an old country superstition like a belief in ghosts should 
survive a good deal of education and training, since it 
is ingrained in the blood through centuries and will man- 
ifest occasionally in most unexpected quarters? 

This story was hardly cold before another story 
gained the public ear and soon monopolized the thought 
of the people. It was the tale of a lad living about two 
blocks west of the bank who had served as messenger for 
over a year. He was, therefore, well acquainted with 
the Banker and clerks and must have had their confidence 
or he would not have been entrusted with messages and 
money. It happened a few nights after the policemen’s 
experience, a cloudless evening, a full moon in the eastern 
sky and the hour about eleven o’clock. Frank Peterson, 
for that is the boy’s name, had been in the country to visit 
his aunt and as his nearest route home lay through “The 


220 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Farmer s Alley,’’ as it is called, a narrow alley passing 
along the rear of the bank premises, he was walking 
along this narrow passage soon after the eleven o’clock 
bell rang, and, when just opposite Ashton Hall, he heard 
some sound like the raising of a window, and turning his 
gaze toward Ashton Hall he declares he saw standing 
before the open window the tall form of Mark Ashton 
and distinctly recognized him. The lad was taken to 
police headquarters, and questioned repeatedly, and 
though some minor discrepancies appeared in the various 
versions of the story, he remained firm and consistent as 
to the main statement of seeing and recognizing the 
Banker. 

By this time a large crop of rumors .were afloat and 
even found their way to the public press. These became 

the one great public topic of conversation in W e — 

Ashton Hall, its mysterious sounds and sights and its 
strange master, the Banker, the beauty of its fair orphan- 
ed daughters, and the mystery that surrounded them 
since they had suddenly thrown oflf an intolerable grief 
and had come into new life and hope and happiness in 
some unaccountable way. 

These matters became so notorious that the rumors 
about the Hall were a sort of public infection and we., 
who were unwilling to accept statements without verifi- 
cation, who wanted to separate the chaff from wheat, 
sift fact from fiction, and real experiences from imagin- 
ary ones, were looked upon as hardened skeptics, and, in 
fact, as public enemies. We were considered, I say, in- 
corrigible infidels, because we refused to believe what the 
great majority professed to know, that Ashton Hall was 
haunted and that the dead Banker had been seen and 
heard in his ghostly visits at times almost without num- 
ber. 

The favorite hour of his appearing was, of course, 
"‘the witching hour of midnight.” For myself I never 
doubted the honesty and sincerity of the principal wit- 
nesses and that there must be some solid foundations for 
many of the stories. I also felt equally certain that the 
great majority of them had grown up spontaneously 


221 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


around the original through the laws of suggestion and 
the power of the imagination. 

Through the remainder of July and all of August 
these rumors gained increasing credence and about the 
first of September, the young ladies of Ashton Hall had 
visitors by delegations from two bodies, the police force 
and the ministerial association. Each delegation came 
seeking light and praying the young ladies in their own 
interests and in the interests of the general public, to 
throw whatever light they could on the many mysterious 
occurrences about the Hall and bank. If, on the main 
occurrences, the young ladies could throw no clear light, 
would they kindly and in satisfaction of the legitimate 
claims of public curiosity, let it be known through said 
delegation what had wrought the sudden and complete 
change in their spirits, dress, manner and general atti- 
titude toward the public on the sixteenth of June, almost 
coincident, let it be observed, with the many mysterious 
and strange occurrences about the Hall and bank. 

It was not my good fortune to be present on either 
occasion when these delegations called. I, however, am 
in an authoritative position to say what did occur, as I 
got my information direct from Captain Sloane and from 
my pastor (Chalmer’s Presbyterian Church). 

To both of these delegations the young ladies stoutly 
denied either hearing, seeing or having any knowledge 
whatever of anything supernatural about the premises. To 
both of these delegations assurances of sympathy with 
the suffering public were conveyed by Miss Lucille, 
— though Captain Sloane avers he saw a mischievous 
light playing about the corners of Miss Lucille’s mouth 
as she expressed it — and an earnest desire on their part 
was expressed to give any information in their power 
that would quiet the public agitation or dispel supersti- 
tious fears. 

AVhen questioned closely by the ministerial delega- 
tion as to what had led them to so sudden and unex- 
pected a change, from the isolation and grief of their 
retired lives before the sixteenth of June to "their cheerful 
spirits and friendly intercourse manifested since that 
date. Miss Lucille, after some little delay, ha.1 replied 


222 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


to the Methodist clergyman by proposing the question 
“You believe, do you not, sir, in the possibility of sudden 
conversion ?” 

“It is fully taught and attested in Scripture, sup- 
ported by history, and confirmed by present-day experi- 
ences,” he replied. 

“Then you, at least,” she said, “should have no dif- 
Iculty in accounting for our sudden change of feeling 
and consequent change of conduct. It was assuredly 
a case of sudden conversion. We had yielded ourselves 
up to grief — and grief was killing us — blotting the sun 
out of our youthful heavens, robbing us of strength, 
health and usefulness. We became converts all at once 
— I cannot describe to you how — to the doctrine that all 
things work together for good, and believing it, resolved 
to live as though we believed it.” 

“But it was so strange,” remarked one minister, “it 
has set all our church people wondering how you could 
so suddenly leave off the appropriate mourning garb and 
wear bright raiment again so soon after — alter — your 
great loss.” 

“It was this way,” readily answered Miss Lucille, 
“we became convinced that the custom of wearing the 
dark weeds of mourning must have had its origin 
in the gloom and dread of death common to pag- 
anism rather than in the light and hope of New Testa- 
ment Christianity. It seemed to us pagan in origin, 
pagan in its spirit and teaching and most depressing in 
its eft'ects on one’s spirits. We resolved to let our 
changed manner and clothing testify our complete change 
of view to the world.” 

And, rising up, she embraced Helena and kissed her 
and said, “We will never wear mourning again — shall 
we Helena ?” 

The delegation took this — as it was doubtless in- 
tended — as the close of the interview and withdrew with 
mixed emotions. Some few seemed impressed with her 
statements, others were shocked and offended at her 
evident good humor, and some questioned whether or 
not, under her seemingly careless style of speaking, there 
was not much hidden meaning. 


223 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


MISS LUCILLE'S NARRATIVE. 

It seems to me so strange and almost ridiculous that 
I, a home girl, and one shunning all publicity, whose 
chief mission up to that fatal New Year’s eve, was to 
love and serve the noblest man that ever lived, my 
father, should be asked to help in making a book, in 
fact to write an independent chapter myself ! 

When first asked by Mr. John Gibson Hume to do so, 
I could not believe the request was a serious one and 
treated it as a joke. When I became convinced that he 
really desired me to write, in fact expected me to do so, 
I flatly refused saying it was preposterous and absurd. 
But Mr. Hume called upon me almost daily for several 
weeks at about the same hour and with little variation 
in his language or manner, to enquire if I had not made 
up my mind to furnish the statement asked for, until I 
saw I was doomed to a prolonged siege. I then deter- 
mined to do what I should have done at the beginning, 
consult my friends. When I found the opinion was some- 
what unanimous that I could probably furnish an inter- 
esting and necessary part of the story to be given to the 
world, and might do so, with perfect propriety, limiting 
my plain statement within prescribed bounds, my doubts 
and hesitation gave way and I gave Mr. Hume my prom- 
ise to do the best possible in my new role. He left me 
hastily, assuring me that his wife and his minister would 
both be very grateful, and so the matter was settled. 

I am told that I need not refer at all to events pre- 
ceding the funeral or describe anything subsequent to 
the night when Mr. Jaffery and his assistants made the 
great discovery at the bank, all of which will duly ap- 
pear in Mr. Hume’s extended reports or in the narratives 
of others. This makes my way comparatively plain and 
simple. I am to describe in my own way as many facts 
as I can concerning Ashton Hall and its inmates and to 
tecord any impres.sions of my own on these occurrences 
between the periods mentioned. 


224 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I summon up my courage therefore, to go back in 
thought to those dreadful days of perpetual gloom and 
unbroken heartache that followed the tragedy, the pro- 
longed hope deferred of the illness and the death and 
burial of my father. 

Somehow the blackness and horror of that time seems 
like a dreadful nightmare — all the more terrible to bear 
because of the fullness of joy and hope that immediately 
preceded it. At times even yet — now that the clouds 
have almost lifted from our horizon — the old experiences 
come back with such sharp pain and bitter agony as to 
prove almost unendurable. 

I do not know in starting out how to give the reader 
an adequate conception of the peculiar position in which 
I found myself placed by the awful blow which laid the 
strong man low and left me all but alone in the world. 
So much depended on my father’s life just then — as he 
knew and as I knew. The circumstances were so pecu- 
liar that I doubt if there could be found an exact parallel 
in history. His life seemed not only an absolute neces- 
sity to the happiness of his daughters, but equally neces- 
sary for the completion of plans he had formed a score 
of years ago, and equally essential to the happiness of 
others outside our house circle and to the fulfilment of 
the ends of justice. 

So far as I was concerned, my father represented 
the world to me. I never knew a mother’s love — he was 
both father and mother to me. Whatever he was to the 
world, or rather appeared to be — stern, unbending, ag- 
gressive and severe as he was called, or as others, not 
knowing his real character, chose to say, unjust and 
cruel, he was to me always and ever the personification 
of goodness and tenderness. He never gave me a cross 
word, and when I looked upon his pallid face the last 
time before it was borne to burial, I could honestly say 
he had never consciously given me a moment’s pain. 

In his strong character, his clear thought, his refined 
judgment, his lofty purposes, I ever took increasing de- 
light as I grew from girlhood to womanhood. 

Moreover, I knew him as the world did not. I knew 
his large-heartedness, his magnaminity, his scorn of all 


225 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

that was vile and mean and his deep abiding pity for the 
poor and the unfortunate. I was his almoner many a 
time when he was, for a purpose and in pursuit of long 
cherished plans, posing as the oppressor of the poor, and 
at the same time secretly loading them with benefits. 

I was his one and only confident in those severe tests 
of character to which he chose to subject those very 
dear unto his heart that he might prove the truth of his 
theory of the essential goodness of human nature, when 
conditions and environments are right for its unfolding. 
I knew, as no other knew, his boundless joy when he 
found the character he had thrown into the crucible and 
subjected to fiery temptation, coming out refined and 
purified as pure gold, and standing the severest tests and 
strains to which character can be subjected, poverty 
linked with suffering and wealth linked with power. 

Do you wonder, gentle reader, that I, as a small 
satellite, proud of my borrowed light, revolved around 
one who was both strong and gentle, patient and cour- 
ageous, and one who in his own soul had become per- 
fect through suffering. 

The tragedy came, too, just at the culmination of our 
plans and purposes. A new will was to be made and a 
revelation was soon to be given that would startle the 
world and disclose secrets kept faithfully by the chosen 
few for a score of years. All the mysteries and enigmas 
of my father’s character were awaiting full and satis- 
factory explanation, on the coming “day of revelation.” 
Then the only shadows that had ever threatened the pure 
love and confidence that bound me to Helena — the 
secrets I had shared with my father and dare not divulge 
till the events were ripe for them — were about to be 
lifted and the sunlight of perfect joy and peace given 
back to her in full measure. All these hopes and ex- 
pectations, so large, so thrilling, so full of promised 
blessing for others and ourselves, were to be realized 
and in a few days at the very latest — when the tragic 
deed of cruelty threatened to utterly destroy not only the 
plans of a life-time, but to remorselessly ruin an inno- 
cent victim. 

Merciful God! How I suffered during those tear- 
226 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


less days when my agony was so deep and sharp, and my 
burden so heavy, that no tears could be found for re- 
lief. Pity, kind souls, the human hearts so stricken that 
they cannot weep! 

I scarcely ate or slept. I walked the floor and 
wrung my hands in hopeless despair and sorrow. I 
verily think I should have gone down into the grave my- 
self under that weight of unexpressible grief but for one 
little circumstance that brought the necessary diversion 
of thought and feeling and opened up the fountain of 
my tears. 

A little girl about six years of age, a child of Mrs. 
Perkins, a widow, was among the hundreds who called 
to see us in our trouble and were refused admittance. 
She had brought a little nosegay of wild flowers which 
she herself had gathered in the country as her little offer- 
ing to the ladies of Ashton Hall who were, she had 
learned, in such great trouble and grief. When the maid 
told her she could not see me, she still remained seated 
and when the maid, supposing she was resting, left her 
for a moment to attend to the door, she must have arisen 
at once, crossed the hall and found her way to the stair- 
way. Helena found her looking about in the hall in a 
dazed and wistful way and being told she wished to see 
Miss Lucille, pointed out my room to her. As the door 
was opened she, with child-like confidence, had entered 
before I was aware of her presence. 

When I first caught sight of her, she stood shyly 
toying with her flowers and apparently too diffident 
or excited to speak, and I watched her for a moment. 

Suddenly I saw a gathering cloud of emotion on her 
face, she turned her head away, then looking toward 
me again she burst into tears and said sobbingly: 

“I am sorry for you. My mamma loves you for you 
are very kind to poor people. I went and got all these 
flowers for you. I am so sorry you have lost your 
papa. I lost my papa years ago.” and turning up her 
sweet innocent face to me she said, “May I kiss you? 
Mamma always kisses us when we are in trouble.” 

I seized her and pressed her to my bosom and found 


227 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the tears running like rain down my cheeks. I believe 
that loving child saved my life. 

The long agony of suspense over my father’s illness, 
the hopes and fears that alternately ruled us, the ‘‘weary 
watching day by day” ending as it did in the night of 
death, left me so weak and dispirited that I could not 
attend the burial or even be present at the home 
services. 

My grief over the loss of my father was aggravated 
and accentuated by the thought of my hopeless position 
so far as righting the unintentional wrongs which my 
father and I had done to others. Here I was, a bark drift- 
ing on a seemingly shoreless sea, and without a pole star 
or a compass or a guiding hand, or even a true friend 
whom I could take into fullest confidence. With the fail- 
ure of our plans I had to face the reflection of the misery 
we had caused to those we loved best. The great wrong 
it now seemed to me, could never be righted. The evils 
must be borne — ^but could never be redressed. And the 
most excruciating of all the thoughts of my sad condition 
was this : that I, who of all living persons was most re- 
sponsible for the wrong, could not endure the suffering 
entailed by that wrong but must see it fall on the inno- 
cent. This thought was like poison to my soul and 
threatened at one time to dethrone my reason. 

During all the cruel accusations against Mr. Molson, 
culminating in his arrest and imprisonment, I was so 
stunned and helpless, so bewildered and perplexed by the 
successive shocks of trouble and grief, that I could for- 
mulate no plan of action. But after his escape and re- 
ported death I was, somehow, buoyed up to action again, 
and I resolved if money and efforts could assist in find- 
ing him, they should be given without stint, and with 
the finding of Mr. Molson I conceived that the first step 
in a possible reoaration of my wrong-doing could be 
made. 

Accordingly, I visited Captain Sloane and afterwards 
Detective Jaffery. The first gave me no hope whatever. 
He believed Mr. Molson was dead and seemed quite im- 
patient with the idea that any one, especially an inexperi- 


228 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

enced girl, should question the possible correctness of his 
views. 

With Mr. Jaffery the language was not much diifer- 
ent but the land and gentle manner of the man made the 
total effect of his words entirely different. The inter- 
view with Jaffery gave me hope, inspired me in fact, and 
I felt the effects of it for days afterwards. 

I could not then, nor can I now, explain the effect of 
that interview or give any rational explanation of its 
effects upon myself. It is a problem in psychology 
which the philosophers must settle. I am sure of one 
thing: there was nothing in his words, no statement or 
assurance in all that Mr. Jaffery said that 1 could build 
on, or weave into an argument to prove that Mr. Molson 
lived. In fact his words pointed in the opposite direc- 
tion, but something in the man himself told me to hope. 
It was as though the professional detective were bidding 
me cease hope and cease effort and whispering that my 
friend was dead, while beneath it all, the kind and gen- 
erous-hearted man was saying powerfully, though silent- 
ly, be of good cheer, your friend lives. 

I left the office with my hopes climbing upwards, 
despite his words, as the mercury mounts higher and 
higher in the hot summer day. This interview gave me 
something to live for and stimulated my endeavor. 

Mr. Jaffery did me good in still another way. I felt 
that back of all his professional caution, of his few 
studied words to me, back of any policy he might for 
purposes of his own choose to adopt, there was a living, 
breathing sympathetic man, a brother and a friend I 
could rely upon and trust, and this made me strong. 

When he took our hands in parting — for Helena was, 
of course, with me — he said, “Were it not almost sacri- 
ligious to do so, I would use the words of the Master 
and say, T shall see you again and your hearts shall re- 
joice,’ I shall one day come to see you bringing good 
news — news so good you will wonder if it can be true.” 

I could have kissed him in gratitude for his healing 
words for they were like balm to my bruised heart and 
I felt then how true and noble a man he was, though 
many fear him because of his strong powers of mind. 


229 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Then I thought of my good friend, Mrs. Williams, 
and Helena and I drove to “The Willows” and spent 
an afternoon there to our great comfort. We were most 
kindly received and it seemed as if our trouble and bur- 
den of grief was likewise the burden and grief of that 
family, especially as if Mrs. Williams was “carrying our 
sorrows.” 

She was very calm but showed in the paler face and 
deeper inflection of her voice that she felt all the trouble 
and grief that had fallen on young Molson as her own. 

Helena played delightfully many selections on the 
piano, I think since our sorrows came she has played 
better than ever before, and the girls sang some beauti- 
ful duets, and then I noticed Mrs. Williams closed her 
eyes and a slight trembling came over her frame and 
then she began in soft, mellifluent voice to talk upon 
life, its discipline, its joys and sorrows and especially 
upon the meaning and purpose of suffering. 

I wish Mr. John Gilbert Hume had been present with 
his nimble pencil to catch the beautiful thought and dic- 
tion of that hour. I shall never forget the quiet peace 
that stole into my heart with the very intonations of her 
voice. The thought was very beautiful, highly spiritual, 
and the language so chaste and simple, and most appro- 
priate. It had its charm for both ear and heart. I am 
afraid to mar its beauty by any attempted description. 

But two things I well remember and they were the 
emphasis the discourse put upon the meaning and value 
of suffering and the peace and hope that seemed to breathe 
out of the lips of the speaker and instill themselves into 
our hearts. She taught us that all life’s experiences were 
disciplinary and educative, and back of all was a Wisdom 
Infinite, that so planned life that all things must work 
together for eventual good to all. Life’s sorrow and 
sufferings were generally the means of bringing out hid- 
den virtues. It is true that now we cannot see and un- 
derstand just how all things are working together for 
our good — seeing through a glass- as we do darkly — yet 
the hour is fast aproaching when we shall know and un- 
derstand, see as we are seen, and find life’s mysteries and 
enigmas all explained. 


230 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Helena was charmed beyond expression with the talk 
and she rehearsed it to me on the way back. She has 
conceived a great fondness for Mrs. Williams whom she 
regards as one of the noblest types of womanhood. How 
people change as the years go by. I well remember when 
a quiet woman of Mrs. Williams type of character would 
have had but few attractions for Helena. She has come 
to an appreciation of the beauty and spirituality of noble 
character. 

Helena, like myself, has grown quite emotional under 
the strain of our tragic experience, and, speaking of Mrs. 
Williams on the way home, she burst into a flood of 
tears and throwing her arms around my neck exclaimed, 
“Oh, if I were only a woman like Mrs. Williams! If I 
possessed her knowledge, her lofty ideals, her noble pur- 
poses and could only make myself, like her, a teacher 
and an inspiration to others, life would be worth living! 
But I am so utterly selfish, so vain, so idle, so frivolous 
and so useless. I sometimes wish I were a poor seam- 
tress or a nursery maid — rather than heiress of Ashton 
Hall 

I comforted her in my usual way, told her what a 
dear and precious sister she was to me, and how noble 
and generous she was at heart, despite all the faults on 
the surface of her life, but she would not hear a word 
of it, shook oif my embraces, sobbing like a heart-broken 
child in her penitent mood. “Fm not a bit good — ^not a 
bit.” 

“No wonder,” said she, “that those having such a 
teacher grow up to be brave, noble and tender, and love 
right and honor more than themselves, more than life. 
Had I had such a teacher and such surroundings, I might 
have been quite diflferent from what I am.” 

I agreed with her in part only, not accepting her own 
view of herself. I could heartily endorse all she said in 
praise of Herman Molson’s character, but I could not 
help wondering if she included Mr. Molson’s foster 
brother, Mr. Herbert Williams in the same mental 
category. 

The dreary weeki rolled on. We immured ourselves 
from the world and in the shadows of Ashton Hall, dear 


231 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Helena and I tried as best we could to bear up under the 
dreary burden our lives had become to us, hoping against 
hope and wondering if at some future time the rays of 
happiness could fall again upon our now shadowed 
pathway. 

Oh, yes, I remember the day well, the glad day, when 
happiness was born again in our hearts, and when, out of 
the ashes of our desolation, phoenix-like, there sprang 
on soaring wing a resurrected hope. It was the sixteenth 
day of June, to me ever hereafter the sweetest day of all 
the days of the calendar, for it brought to me the most 
blissful news which ever fell on the ears of the forlorn 
and heart-broken. 

I was sitting in the drawing-room and had the win- 
dows raised, but the shutters still closed, allowing the 
pure June air laden with the breath of the rose trees and 
the honeysuckle to steal into the room and listening to 
the merry chant of the birds in the shrubbery outside. 
I was contrasting the gloom and sadness of our once 
happy home with the beauty and joyousness of nature 
all around us. I was wondering if the song birds would 
ever sing again in my heart as they sang so blithely and 
exultingly for weeks before the awful crime. 

There came a sudden sharp ring of the door bell and 
I instructed the maid to first enquire who was there be- 
fore admitting any one, and when she came back with 
the card inscribed Thomas Jaffery, I could not wait. My 
heart was in my throat. How I got to the door, I know 
not, but when I saw him, I could not speak but my face 
must have told him all and looked the questions which 
my lips could not utter. “Poor child,” he said in a tone 
of great tenderness, “I fear by my coming I have ex- 
cited some hopes I may not be able to gratify. I cannot 
yet give you positive assurance that Herman Molson lives 
but I am satisfied that he does. I am satisfied you will 
have ample opportunity of redressing any real or fancied 
wrong you have done him.” 

He led me gently back^ to the drawing room and 
seated me opposite the window, opened one shutter 
against my protest, and seated himself on the shaded 
side of the room opposite to me. 


232 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


His manner was as tender and pitiful as a woman^s, 
and when I contrasted his superb physical strength with 
his gentleness and sympathy 1 admired him more and 
more. 

“I wanted to talk a little while With you,” he said, 
'‘not particularly about Mr. Molson, not on any one 
special subject, but just as a friend and brother would 
talk informally. 

“Sometimes a little thing, a song, a dream, a chance 
remark, some little incident in travel, or a few minutes 
chat with a friend, will change the vibrations of the brain 
and alter one’s whole outlook upon life. 

“Have you noticed that?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes,” I replied, recalling well the difference in 
my feelings, and in my mental outlook after I had en- 
joyed my last interview with him. 

“What have you been reading of late?”, he asked. 

“I find no pleasure in reading,” I said. “All history, 
all biography, and all fiction seem tame and insipid after 
what I have passed through.” 

“I can well understand that,” he replied “but the 
really great books of the ages help us when rightly 
studied to understand the deep experiences of our lives, 
just as in turn these deeper experiences throw their light 
on the great books.” 

“What do you regard as the great books, Mr. Jaf- 
fery?” I asked. 

“The Bible and Sheakespeare” he promptly answered, 
as though there was no possibility either of denying that 
statement or modifying it by the addition of another 
book. 

“I have of late been making a special study,” he went 
on, “of Paul’s doctrine of the resurrection body. I am 
firmly convinced Paul did not believe in or intend to 
teach the dogma of a resurrection of the physical body. 
He asserted that “flesh and blood” cannot enter the king- 
dom of heaven, that the old body must die and perish. 
I am told by competent authorities that the New Testa- 
ment expression “resurrection of the dead” is literally 
resurrection “out of” or “from the dead,” implying that 
the new spiritual body is evolved out of the physical 


233 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

body, as the new sprout of corn grows out of the decay- 
ing body of the seed kernel. 

“And I believe that this spiritual body exists now 
within the physical, that it is now the life and motive 
power of the physical, and so Paul seems to declare for 
he says ‘There is a natural body and there is (not 
there will be) a spiritual body.’ And further, I believe 
this resurrection occurs at death, in fact that death is a 
resurrection to a higher form of life.” 

“All this is very novel,” I remarked “and very in- 
teresting, but it seems to make the resurrection a natural 
process rather than a miracle of God’s power. I fear the 
clergy would not accept your view for I have always 
heard the resurrection described as miraculous, and de- 
pendent in some way upon the merit and work of Jesus 
as the Savior of men, the one atonement for man’s trans- 
gressions.” 

“True, that is the old view,” he said, “but the diffi- 
culties are insuperable in maintaining it. First, it is op- 
posed to many scriptures such as I have quoted. It 
seems a physical impossibility. We cannot rationally be- 
lieve in the resurrection of the body if by that is meant 
the identical particles of which it is composed. The 
particles of the old body becoming decomposed go to feed 
the life of plants and trees and flowers and they, in turn, 
become the food of other organizations, and thus on 
through the ages. 

“The old view is contradicted also by the New Testa- 
ment statements concerning the resurrected body of Jesus, 
which was so ethereal and spiritual that it readily passed 
through matter. This seems to have been the normal 
condition of the body of Jesus after the resurrection. It 
is true on some occasions it assumed a materialized form, 
as in the case of Thomas and when the risen Jesus par- 
took of food, so that he possessed both the power of 
materializing his spirit body and the power also of dis- 
sipating the elements which had caused this material 
condition and of becoming again possessed of the spirit 
body only. In the materialized body which he sometimes 
assumed it is not at all necessary to suppose that the iden- 
tical particles of the old body were present. In fact it 


234 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


seems impossible to think so, and much more rational to 
believe that the thin ethereal envelope of the spirit body 
becomes gross and material by attracting to itself out of 
the surrounding atmosphere atomic substance and con- 
densing those atoms which are adjacent to itself. 

“I have also, Miss Lucille, been making a special 
study of those cases in the New Testament which speak 
of the “raising of the dead.” As you know there are 
only five, three of which are attributed to Jesus, and one 
each to Peter (Dorcas) and to Paul (the young man). 

“Do you know I believe the so-called raising of the 
dead to have been in every single instance a case of re- 
suscitation of the apparently dead.” 

“What,” said I, “do you dispute the Scripture 
records ?” 

“No,” said Mr. Jafifery, “not necessarily. I do not on 
the other hand admit either the infallibility of the Bible, 
or that we can, in all cases, be sure of its historic ac- 
curacy. I take it that the New Testament accounts are 
substantially true as truth appeared to the writers of 
those times, but that many errors have crept into the 
narratives, and that many stories having a historic foun- 
dation, have been rounded out and filled in by the writers 
or compilers — according to the known custom of the 
times — is, I think, self-evident.” 

“But does not the record state that Jesus raised to 
life again those that were dead?” I asked. 

“Unquestionably, I think Jesus raised to life those 
who were considered dead. The question in my mind is 
this: were these persons actually dead. Now if doctors 
today, with all the light of our increased knowledge and 
improved methods, are often mistaken as to whether or 
not death has actually occurred, and if men are pro- 
nounced dead and actually buried, who are only in a deep 
trance, may not it be that in every one of the five cases 
recorded in the New Testament that actual death had not 
occurred — only seeming death? We need not question 
the honesty and sincerity of the writers; we may ques- 
tion the knowledge of those times. ^ The question is: 
were the writers and others who believed in the actual 


235 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


restoration of the dead to life mistaken? Were the per- 
sons actually dead ? 

“It has grown quite common, as you know in our 
day even on the part of the clergy and theological pro- 
fessors, to question the correctness of Paul’s teachings 
on particular subjects, because the church has so widely 
departed from some of his views and because it is in- 
timated in his writings that in some cases he is giving 
his own view, and in others he is speaking under inspira- 
tion. If, then, Paul reflected his own limitations and 
prejudices and was at times mistaken, why may not other 
New Testament writers have been mistaken? Especially 
where one writer seems in conflict with another, or one 
book discloses views of Jesus which are entirely absent 
from others, or one book copies events from another, or 
one book records events seemingly implying the supernat- 
ural and other books, treating the same topics, can be in- 
terpreted on a rational basis? I want to summarize for 
you a few reasons why I believe the so-called raising of 
the dead was in reality the resuscitation of those appar- 
ently dead but really alive. 

“First, we know more about death today than ever 
before. Probably within the last fifty years the world 
has learned more of the conditions and experiences of 
a man just before, during and after death, than ever be- 
fore. 

“Second, this fuller knowledge teaches us that real 
death does not generally take place for hours, often for 
days, after apparent death has occurred. 

“Third, in trance and similar conditions of suspended 
animation, there is often such strong indications of actual 
death that only expert knowledge and skill can decide 
whether or no death has supervened. 

“Fourth, physicians are often deceived and as a mat- 
ter of fact sometimes pronounce the living to be dead. In 
this way many premature burials have occurred. 

“And in the fifth place, apparent death is often so 
near to actual death that it will merge into real death 
unless some strong magnetic force be administered in 
the way of shock to the body, or some spiritual forces 

236 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


present attract, through prayer or fervent desire, the de- 
parting spirit back to its tenement. 

“Lastly, in trance and similar conditions the spirit 
entity is often out of the body and still attached thereto 
by slender cords of magnetic vibrations, uniting the brain 
of the spirit body with the old brain, or connecting the 
abdominal brains of the two organizations. In the last 
condition nature left to her own course may complete 
the death process by fully separating the two bodies 
(actual death) or, granted the presence of a strongly 
magnetic person, a healer, the departing spirit may be 
drawn back into its old dwelling place. A healer often 
furnishes the necessary magnetism by his touch or by 
sending out his spiritual forces through prayer and in- 
tense desire. 

“Nearly every case in the New Testament lends 
itself readily to this view. Jesus himself declared that 
the ruler’s daughter was not dead, but sleeping. In the 
case of the widow’s son, Jesus’ words and work were 
similar to his words and work with the ruler’s daughter. 
The young man restored by Paul still had his “life in 
him.” Dorcas’ case is easily included with the rest. 

“As to the story of Lazarus, if it be historic and not 
legendary, we have many things to observe. First, its 
absence from the other Gospels — showing it was a part 
of later traditions of the work of Jesus, and, therefore, 
less likely to be fully historic and probably introduced 
into the Gospel to support those advanced views of the 
nature of Jesus which had gained credence when John’s 
Gospel was written. We have, secondly, the fact ad- 
mitted by all Bible students, however varying may be 
their interpretations, that John’s Gospel shows that the 
views of early Christians had undergone an evolution in 
his time, and especially in regard to the nature of Jesus, 
revealing a much larger faith in the marvellous and the 
supernatural than is disclosed in the other Gospels. 

“Again with the advanced views and larger faith of 
John’s time had come an enlargement of the Gospel nar- 
rative to correspond therewith. The highest critical au- 
thorities regard the Lazarus story as largely mythical, 
supposing it to have grown up around some actual case 


237 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

of healing, but not to be depended on as historically ac- 
curate in details, as shown in the Encyclopedia Biblica. 
The statements of Jesus seem hardly reconcilable if we 
accept the story as entirely historic. 

“Taking these facts into account and remembering 
that the reputed action of Jesus in the case of Jairus' 
daughter and the widow’s son, is very similar to that as- 
cribed to Him at the raising of Lazarus, I have no hesi- 
tation in my own mind in putting them all into one cate- 
gory and affirming the case of Lazarus, if historic, a case 
of resuscitation. 

“Profane history has its records of resuscitation in the 
life of Apollonius, of Tyana, and others, called also “rais- 
ing of the dead,” but better interpreted as resuscitation of 
those apparently dead. I am forced to confess somewhat 
reluctantly, these conclusions.” 

He ceased but had a curious look of interest on his 
face and was scanning mine most attentively. It was a 
strange situation for me. Here was my friend who 
had come, as I expected, with some word of cheer about 
Herman Molson. Yet, here he sat entering upon a lengthy 
and labored argument to justify his novel view of the 
Bible miracles. 

I could but wonder why. 

I wondered why he looked at me with such a singular 
expression combining as it did, interest, sympathy, and a 
spirit of penetrative analysis, as though he would pierce 
the secrets of my mind and heart. 

How did he think to comfort me by new views of the 
Bible miracles? 

Did he not know, did he fail to remember that both 
Helena and myself were exceedingly sensitive at this 
time, especially to any thought of death or the grave? 

Why had Mr. Jaffery, my kind, good friend, chosen to 
lacerate afresh my feelings? 

He must have seen that this discourse was very pain- 
ful to me for my tell-tale face can keep nothing back from 
those mesmeric eyes of his. 

Probably he realized now, a^ his silence might indicate, 
what a mistake he had made and would soon turn the 

238 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

conversation into other channels, or else end the inter- 
view. 

No, neither source of relief was open to me. He pro- 
ceeded. 

“Miss Lucille, you must have been touched with the 
beauty of that story of the raising of Lazarus, whether 
it be real history or part history and part fiction, it is 
inimitably sweet and tender throughout. 

“I have been reading it over and over again and ever 
with new delight. Have you read it lately ? I never tire 
of it myself. The sweet, pure mutual affection that bound 
two women, into one loving group ; the tender sympathy 
of Jesus for the grieving sisters; their heart-ache, their 
the Master and Lazarus and the sisters, two men and 
utter despair now that death had come, all expressed in 
the pathetic words, ‘Lord, if thou hadst been here, my 
brother had not died the solemn and impressive earnest- 
ness of the Master in the majestic summons, ‘Lazarus 
come forth,’ worthy of a King and a Conqueror of death ; 
and then the unspeakable, almost inconceivable joy of the 
sisters, aye, and of Lazarus and Jesus, too, in having the 
family circle once more restored! Who could paint it? 
Who could describe it?” 

^ 5|C H* * 

He paused. His voice was really breaking with sym- 
pathetic emotion. 

I don’t know whether he noticed my agony ; it did not 
seem to impress him at the time. He must have seen it. 
I was nearly overcome. 

It was so beautiful, all that he said, yet so cruel, so 
cruel, though neither in voice or manner did he show 
callousness but the very reverse. 

His picture of the two sisters and their despair over 
Lazarus’ death was such an open and clear challenge to 
my thoughts to recall all that had happened to Helena 
and myself, such a heart-breaking challenge to me to 
think of the boundless joy of the Mary and Martha of the 
olden times, and the hopelessness of our own sad lot at 
present, that I wanted to utter some warning protest. 

But he went on, mercilessly on. 

“Do you know, I have often wondered if the sisters 


239 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


had not been present on that memorable occasion (if we 
can conceive the miracle to have happened in the absence 
of Mary and Martha) if they could have been persuaded 
to believe it by another’s testimony? If, perchance, 
•some messenger had gone to tell them, ‘thy dead brother 
is alive,’ could they have believed it? Would it not have 
seemed to them utterly incredible?” 

“Oh!” I cried, in my hopeless grief and excitement, 
“yes, they might have believed it in that happy day and in 
that blessed land. The heart-broken, the grief-stricken, 
the friendless and forlorn, had a Savior then. There 
walked the hills and valleys of Judea and Galilee then 
One who was ‘touched with the feelings of our infirmi- 
ties,’ One ‘mighty to save,’ a friend, a brother to all 
despairing souls. 

“Alas! for the heart-broken women of to-day! We 
cry aloud in our nameless grief and agony. The heavens 
are brass. There is none to deliver, none mighty to 
save, none to restore our dead to life !” and my sobs filled 
the room and shook my body as the storm shakes the 
bending willows. 

“Ah, yes, my good friend,” said Jaffery, “the same 
God reigns in heaven. The same Christ principle is in 
human nature and in the world and deliverance often 
comes when least expected, even when the heart is hope- 
less, as were Martha and Mary that time.” And he 
rose and laid his hand upon my head a moment as in 
silent blessing. 

* * 5|C 

“I have strange fancies sometimes,” he continued, 
“and they entertain me many an hour in reflection. In 
studying over that story last evening I imagined myself 
as messenger of the news of Lazarus’ resurrection, to his 
absent sisters. Odd as it may seem to you I was in fancy 
on my journey to tell these sisters that their brother 
Lazarus lived, and I was studying out as I went along on 
my fancied way, just how to tell the strange story. I 
should find them hopeless, and would doubtless have no 
easy task in convincing them of the truth of my story. 
Then I thought of the dangers of it, how excessive joy 

240 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


as well as excessive grief may cause such excitement as 
to result in death. I was questioning myself, in this 
fanciful journey and mission, as to the arguments I 
would use to convince them and the method I would 
adopt to reveal my joyful intelligence, when all at 
once it flashed upon me how to do it. Shall I tell you 
how I would have told the story? Yes, I will— a 
moment later. 

'‘Of one thing I am sure, I would rather have carried 
such a message of hope to those two suffering women 
than to have been crowned a king! 

“I would have tried, of course, to use both art and 
skill in speech, and not to overcome them with what is 
all too great for human minds to grasp, giving them but 
small installments of the truth, in hints and stories and 
analogies to gently lead the mind up to the mountain 
top of hope, where all the glorious truth would stand 
revealed and” — he had risen, his voice tremulous with a 
pathos which took hold of my very heart strings, his 
words at times scarcely audible, but still pressing on with 
his relentless story. 

I, too, had risen, some faint glimmerings of his pur- 
pose stealing over the darkness of my mind, while my 
emotions were roused into a whirlwind of excitement, 
and eye and ear were both alert to catch each word and 
inflection of his voice, and pierce the riddle of the 
meaning in his face. And thus we two approached each 
other. 

"I know I would not dare to tell it plainly,” he went 
on falteringly, "nor say, he whom ye mourn as dead is 
now alive again — but I — would — ^make a — sparable — or 

story — of some kind and — ^let them-^raw — the 

meaning — slowly ” 

We were face to face now and I had grasped him by 
the shoulder peering into his eyes for answer to the ques- 
tion that wrung my soul and which I could not frame in 
speech, when something in his manner gave me answer 
full and satisfactory and I shouted till my cry echoed 
through the rooms: 

"Now, God be praised! My father lives. My father 
lives ! Oh, Helena !” and was sinking as he caught me in 


241 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

his arms. How long I was unconscious I know not, but 
when I regained consciousness, Helena was bending over 
me with heaven in her sweet face, all radiant now with 
hope and happiness, and whispering, “Your father is alive 
and well, so far restored he soon may come to Ashton 
Hall. The wondrous story you shall hear full soon. 
Praise God, he lives again.” 

An ecstatic feeling of joy was about the only sensa- 
tion I felt, for I seemed to live only in my spiritual being. 

I will not and need not here attempt to tell the long, 
strange tale that Mr. Jaffery had narrated of my father’s 
rescue from the grave and his resuscitation, nor how Mr. 
Jaffery stayed hour after hour unfolding constantly some 
new wonder of the story. All this will, I am told, appear 
in its own place in the narrative and be better described 
than in my poor words. 

Mr. Jaffery informed us that for prudential reasons 
connected with the crime and bank, my father would not 
return at once to Ashton Hall, but we should be taken to 
the hospital to see him, and also that the fact of his being 
alive must be kept a profound secret for the same 
reasons, until further investigations of the crime were 
complete. He also privately informed us that when at 
length my father did return to Ashton Hall, we must, for 
a time at least, keep that fact also secret from the world 
until the proper time for revealing it to the public. 

Meantime, we must be patient and content ourselves 
with these severe arrangements and loyally assist him 
in securing not only the conviction of the criminal, but 
also the proper adjustment and control of the business. * 

This outline narrative of our home life at Ashton 
Hall will doubtless suggest explanations to the public of 
our changed manners, dress and conversation after that 
wonderful sixteenth day of June, a change that greatly 
mystified the people and led to much public enquiry, and 
one we found great difficulty in accounting for to our 
friends without revealing what Mr. Tafifery expressly 
prohibited us from telling. 

My narrative, simple though it be, will explain an- 
other prolonged enquiry on the part of the public, namely 
the mysterious sights and sounds which were noted about 


242 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the bank and Hall after a certain date in July. I have 
no absolute proof but I entertain a shrewd suspicion 
that Mr. Jaffery and my father both could explain every- 
thing seemingly supernatural in these occurrences and 
that they had a design of their own in keeping up the 
talk and excitement for a time while certain plans of 
theirs were brought to maturity. 

I have now finished the part of the story assigned 
me and may take my leave of the kind reader, hoping 
he may share the joys, as he has doubtless sympathized 
with the sorrows, of the inmates of Ashton Hall. 

Lucille Ashton. 


243 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE SOLVING OF THE MYSTERIES. 

John Gibson Hume. 

It was, I well remember, in the evening of the 14th. 
of September that I received a note from Mr. Jaffery 
informing me that my services would be required the 
following evening at his office at eleven o’clock and re- 
questing absolute secrecy. 

On reaching the office at the time appointed I found 
Captain Sloane, with Donovan, Hughson, Taylor and 
Connors. 

After greeting me kindly, Mr. Jaffery said, ‘T have 
invited you, gentlemen, to witness the culmination of 
certain lines of private investigation I have been pur- 
suing since the tragedy of Ashton Hall with a view of 
unearthing the criminal and bringing him to justice. The 
case, from my point of view, was quite simple in one 
way from the first, yet a case with its peculiar difficulty 
because the criminal though well known to me had left 
little chance for securing any direct evidence against 
him, and therefore little hope of obtaining a conviction. 
If I have spoken on former occasions words hard to 
reconcile with my present speech, I justify myself by the 
necessity that was upon me to allay suspicion in order 
to have a freer hand in private study of the case. 

“Even now I am doubtful, with all the circumstantial 
evidence at hand, if I could secure a conviction. I am 
relying, I may say, chiefly upon the success of my ex- 
periment tonight for securing a confession and obviat- 
ing the necessity of a long and wearisome legal battle 
oyer a case which, while not at all doubtful in my mind, 
might prove so in the minds of judge or jury. 

“I wish to declare now,notwithstanding my words and 
conduct to the contrary, that since the first night at Ash- 
ton Hall after the murder I have been positive who shot 
Mark Ashton. Step by step I have pursued my investi- 
gations, and have in hand a mass of circumstantial evid- 


244 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


ence which, while weak in its separate details, is, I think, 
overwhelming in its combined effects. At some future 
time I will recite the steps taken and facts accumulated, 
but not now. 

‘Tonight, if successful in my experiment, which I am 
planning according to certain well known characteristics 
of criminals when brought into contact with the scenes 
of a crime, or when a crime of which they have been 
guilty is acted out before them, I hope to secure a con- 
fession. I say I hope, but much will depend on the way 
we carry out our program. Before many hours I shall 
have the murderer of Mark Ashton in custody to receive 
his confession. (Sensation) 

“I cannot ask you, do not expect you to share my 
ardent hopes just now. You perhaps think me deluded 
and misled. So be it. This night shall determine. If 
I do not vindicate my prophecies I will confess to you 
my failure and the erroneous views on which I have 
been proceeding. 

“I must ask you to accompany me to several places 
and give me so much of your confidence in the mean- 
time as to obey implicitly my directions. Some surprises 
await you and I must warn you against taking any part 
by word or act, except what I have assigned to one of 
you here present, and to another of my assistants who 
will in due time appear on the scene of the murder- 
Please content yourselves with being deaf and dumb 
spectators for a time, and if our experiment is success- 
ful, you will all know when you may break the silence. 

“Furthermore, gentlemen, so far as your actions are 
concerned, try and make them harmonize with my own. 
Let nothing surprise you. If I pretend not to see a thing 
you do likewise. Reveal nothing by your manner. Give 
me this silent assistance of seeing and hearing just as 
much and no more than I appear to do. There is a pur- 
pose in it. Do you agree?” 

All pledged their co-operation but I could see that 
Captain Sloane entered upon the experiment with a firm 
conviction that he was starting on a wild-goose chase 
destined to failure. Indeed I overheard him say as much 
to one of his subordinates. 


245 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


We set out about tw^ty minutes past eleven and soon 
found ourselves at the quarters of Lewis Parish, the 
manager of the Mark Ashton Banking Co., for, as Mr. 
Jaffery had explained he was to accompany us on our 
expedition. 

After arousing the housekeeper, Mr. Jaffery was ad’ 
mitted and climbing the stairs was soon pounding vigor- 
ously on the door of Mr. Parish’s sleeping apartments. 

“Who’s there?” demanded Parish, “at this unseason- 
able hour?” 

“I, Thomas Jaffery and others, on our way to Ash- 
ton Hall, and to the bank to investigate the ghost walk- 
ing. Come with us.” 

“Not I — at such an hour. I have no love for ghosts 
and goblins. I prefer my quiet room and rest.” 

“But you must come. Mark Ashton’s murderer is 
yet uncaught. It’s rumored how his ghost walks at mid- 
night through the bank, and will not down, because the 
wretch who shot him goes unwhipt of justice. Come.” 

“That’s fit business for the officers of the law but 
it is not mine,” said Parish. 

“Yes, it is eycry man’s business to see that justice is 
done, that crime is detected and punished. Of all men, 
you, Lewis Parish, Mark Ashton’s trusted friend, should 
be most earnest in finding out his murderer.” 

“I tell you I would not enter that cursed bank tonight 
for all Mark Ashton’s wealth,” replied Parish. 

“It matters not,” said Jaffery, “whether the work be 
pleasant or the reverse to you. It is your part in this 
great enterprise which we have planned. We need you 
and come you must. Hurry up, the time passes, no ex- 
cuses now, but hurry.” 

We heard him making ready and in a shorter time 
than we expected he walked nervously down the steps 
but seemed to grow more confident and self-possessed as 
he saw our numbers and mingled with the company. 

“Do you believe in ghosts?” said Jaffery. 

“Yes, I believe in ghosts” said Mr. Parish excitedly 
“and it is the very hour — ^but why should I fear Mark 
Ashton’s ghost? He was my friend. We were partners. 
And had he power now he would do me no harm. It 

246 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


seems most strange to me— this midnight raid upon a 
poor disquieted ghost. How can one thousand armed 
men catch one poor shivering ghost?” 

“Cease your senseless chatter about ghosts,” said 
Jaffery with more severity than I had ever known him to 
assume. “Every man of sense knows there are no ghosts, 
only creatures of a wild imagination, distortions of the 
mind, delusions of a tricky brain gone wrong through 
fright or fear or guilty conscience ” 

“Oh, but I know,” cried Parish, interrupting, “that 
ghosts do haunt their 'old abodes. They walk where 
crime and murder have been done. They seek for retri- 
bution.” 

“That is the folly and the chatter of fools,” said 
Jaffery, “of silly men and superstitious women. There 
are no real ghosts but there are real men and they are 
worse a thousand fold than these poor figments of imag,- 
ination, you call ghosts.” 

“I tell you, Mr. Jaffery,” said Parish, “ I have seen 
and heard in other countries what no man can explain 
except by visits of the dead. Pve heard in that now 
haunted bank such sounds at midnight as would quickly 
change ;four views and make an infidel believe in a spirit 
world surrounding this.” 

“And so you think,” said Jaffery, “that ghosts can 
enter banks, open drawers, drop books and walk with 
loud resounding steps along the floor? That they can 
steal into back entrances, and wear disguises, and mur- 
der honest men ! Do you think a ghost can murder, Mr. 
Parish? I tell you it is not ghosts but men we seek. 
We’ll leave all quiet inoffensive ghosts to you and others 
who believe such tales. We’re after men who enter 
banks to rob and murder !” 

“And do you think you’ll find any such within the 
bank?” said Parish. “We shall see what we shall see” 
said Jaffery and so ended their conversation fob the time. 

We had now reached Broad Street upon which the 
bank ancj Ashton Hall are located. 

Parish and Jaffery walked in advance. They 
had just reached a corner of the vacant lot next to the 
bank when Parish suddenly stopped, his frame grew 


247 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

rigid with fear and excitement, and, pointing to the 
front window of the bank, he hoarsely whispered, “The 
ghost light! The ghost light!” 

“Where?” asked Jaffery after a brief hesitation, and 
m finely modulated tones, “Where, Mr. Parish?” 

“Why — yonder — splaying back and forth over those 
front windows ! See it flash ! You saw it then !” 

“You are trying to frighten us,” cried Jaifery. 
“There are no ghost lights there.” 

“I say before Heaven there are” cried Parish. “You 
surely see them — surely you must see them, Mr. Jaifery. 
Look — there they are again!” 

“Parish keep your lying tongue between your teeth,” 
cried Jaifery in real or assumed anger. “You are not 
going to scare us with your visions. If you see ghost 
lights, you see what no one else can see. Your brain 
is disordered, your mind is deranged, your superstitious 
fears have crazed you. Do you think I could not see 
them if they were there?” 

“My God! my God!” cried Parish now tnoroughly 
alarmed, “Do none of you, my friends, do none of you 
see those flashing lights over the windows?” 

Then Hughson stepped ahead, while the rest of us 
paused, calmly peered under his hand at the bank win- 
dows and dropping his arm walked back into the com- 
pany exclaiming, “It is true as Jaffery says. There 
are no ghost lights there. Parish is mad. stark mad.” 

With that I saw Mr. Parish turn as if sudden resolu- 
tion had just come to his mind. “I won’t enter that 
d d place tonight” he cried. Mr. Jaffery’s hand in- 

stantly was on his shoulder and restrained his attempted 
retreat. 

“Come on, come on,” said Jaffery, cheerily, “we’ll 
have something more tangible than ghosts to deal with 
before the night is over. Men of flesh and blood, not 
airy nothings, and the stuff that dreams are made of, 
but solid men whose arms the steel can grip and hold. 
Come on.” 

And so half-leading, half dragging Parish they ap- 
proached the entrance to Ashton Hall. 

Quickly inserting the key Jaffery led Parish through 

248 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the door, and as soon as all of us were inside, he quickly 
closed and locked it. 

On entering we all instinctively assumed a listening 
attitude. I think all of us felt the strangeness of the cir- 
cumstances at that witching hour. Probably the many 
reports of sights and sounds about the bank at mid- 
night, which no one seemed able to account for on nat- 
ural principles, had caused us to expect something un- 
canny and set our nerves quivering. 

We were now in the hall- way and near the spot where 
the murderer must have stood. The hour was midnight. 
The superstition of Parish, his abject, craven fear and 
firm unshaken faith in ghosts, could not be without some 
influence on our minds. The promise of Jatfery of 
startling surprises had excited us. Altogether, while 
our company was mostly made up of courageous men, it 
is not too much to say that every one of that number, 
save possibly Jaffery, was quivering with internal ex- 
citement over possible developments. 

A dim light from the lower end of the hall enabled us 
to distinguish the objects and people about us but there 
was just that intermingling of shadows with the objects 
that tends to confuse the mind and beget fear in many 
persons. 

Suddenly we heard just behind the partition wall, 
separating us from Mark Ashton’s private office, a 
drawer open and close, then a book dropped on the table, 
then shortly after the three heavy steps heard and re- 
ported so many times during the last few months. 

“Now — now” whispered Parish in guttural voice, 
“dare you say the ghost does not walk. You surely heard 
that book fall, the heavy steps, the drawer open and 
shut ?” 

“More lies, more foolish, brazen lies!” cried Jaffery 
whose purpose now in regard to Parish was evident. “Do 
you think we are all deaf and blind and senseless ? What 
drawer? What book? Speak up, you shameless liar or 
I’ll put irons on your wrists and send you to a cell.” 

Angered by these threats and insults Parish, who had 
stood trembling and cowering before, straightened up 
and regained in part his composure, seized the detective’s 


24Q 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


arm and swung him round towards the banker’s office 
and cried out, ‘‘Look! Look! the ghost light gleaming 
through that window where the shot was fired. God in 
heaven! man, can’t you see it ? Can’t you see it?” 

We all distinctly saw it as we also heard distinctly the 
sounds but Jaffery by no word or sign or bodily move- 
ment gave the faintest indication he had heard or seen 
what Parish spoke of and we all — taking our cue from 
him — preserved impassive face and manner. 

“You gibbering idiot,” cried Jaffery in real or as- 
sumed passion, “stop this ceaseless prating about sights 
and sounds of ghosts. Do you think these men could 
not see and hear as well as you if these ghostly lights 
and sounds were anywhere save in your own disordered 
brain ? I tell you once more we are not here to look for 
ghosts but on more earnest business, to catch the thief, or 
seize the murderer and satisfy the ends of justice. 
We’ve better work to do than listen to your senseless 
raving — all pure imagination. Does your brain often 
play you tricks like this?” 

Parish, now seemingly convinced that no one but 
himself heard or saw what he had described, sank help- 
less to the floor, limp and cowering at the detective’s 
feet — but not for long. For just then we heard distinctly 
a lock turned in the far comer of the bank, evidently the 
private entrance from the Farmer’s Alley, a door opened, 
and slow, stealthy footsteps moved along the narrow cor- 
ridor next the back wall behind the officers, and inter- 
secting with our hall way. 

Parish sprang up, made an effort to scan the faces 
of the company as if to see if his senses were again mis- 
leading him or whether all of us had heard as well as he. 

This time there was so dissembling on the part of 
Mr. Jaffery. His poised head and intent manner showed 
plainly he had heard and was listening eagerly to the 
advancing steps, and all of us quite naturally fell into 
the same attentive attitude. 

Slowly, steadily, and stealthily the steps sounded out 
their ghostly signals from the stranger. 

We knew he was approaching the intersection of the 
halls and would soon be within our view. 


250 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Jaffery, who was now apparently all excitement, laid 
his hand on Parish and whispered hoarsely: 

“He comes ! He comes ! The murderer comes ! 
He comes to shoot the Banker in his office. Now, now 
this is real — a real man, a real step — no vapory ghost. 
Watch ! Watch the passage ! !” 

And now the steps had reached the corner of the 
passage opening into the wider hall in which we stood. 
Soon the intruder’s form became visible. We held our 
breath and could hear the beating of our hearts. As soon 
as we could discern his outline plainly this is what we 
saw : 

A stocky man in loose gray garb, apparently a 
farmer, with heavy sandy beard and broad felt hat, 
creeping stealthily along the passage, his ear close to the 
partition as though listening, and moving along toward us 
as though he saw us not. 

“Look again! Look!” cried Jaffery to Parish, who 
was now trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind with 
fear and excitement. “See he comes to murder the un- 
suspecting Banker in his chair !” 

Parish was now swaying back and forth like a reed 
in the wind, his eyes protruding with deadly fright, his 
limbs trembling beneath him, and standing only by the 
aid of Jaffery on his right and Hughson on his left. 

The intruder moved along till he reached the wicket 
window, sat down a little lantern on the window base. 
(We had not seen the lantern till this moment as he 
had approached us so near the wall and by sidelong 
motion rather than direct approach, so his right arm 
and the lantern had been hidden from view) 

When Parish saw the lantern a great paroxysm of 
trembling passed over him and Jaffery turned a scowling 
face upon him that seemed to restore in part his self- 
possession. 

We saw the stranger peering through the crevice of 
the wooden window which closed the entrance from the 
hall as though he would first discover if the Banker’s 
office were occupied or not. 

Then apparently satisfied the bolt was drawn and as 
the window opened a little way a shaft of light came 


251 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


through. Suddenly his right arm moved, we saw the gleam 
of a revolver barrel and heard a click and Parish 
springing from the grasp of his friends, cried: 

“Stop him! Stop him! For God’s sake stop him! 

He’ll kill the Banker — My God, it is I — it is I ” and 

sank as one dead to the floor. 

We picked him up as quickly as possible and carried 
him into the Banker’s library just opposite, the door of 
which opened into the hallway, and laid him on the sofa. 

As soon as Parish was partially restored we all 
turned quickly and moved back to the hall-way, as 
though led by common instinct. The stranger had dis- 
appeared and the window was closed. 

We were now near the door opening into the Banker’s 
private ofifice. We stood in expectant silence — waiting, 
listening, watching. 

No one of us could have told just what we expected 
to see or hear or learn. Yet we all felt the air was heavy 
with premonition of coming events and thus we stood 
rooted to the spot. We were held here as by some silent 
command. 

We heard again a movement in the office — as if a 
chair had been displaced. Then three distinct steps 
across the ffoor — then upon the steps. 

Now every eye was fixed upon that door — every 
heart palpitated with some unknown shapeless dread or 
secret hope. 

* * sK * 

The door opened and Mark Ashton stood before us ! 

* * * * 

For a moment all were silent — stricken through with 
doubt — and speechless. 

Captain Sloane — who stood nearest — advancing 
peered into the Banker’s face and eyes. Seizing his 
hand, he said: 

“God knows the mystery of your coming back — ^but 
I am sure Mark Ashton stands before us, a man and not 
a ghost. But speak — and let us hear your voice — for 


252 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

this is passing strange to all. Are you, indeed, Mark 
Ashton ?” 

Then with a courtly bow the Banker said, 'T am 
Mark Ashton alive and well — and bid you all a welcome 
to these halls.” 

'‘A thousand welcomes back to life” — said Captain 
Sloane — for no one else had yet approached the Banker 
— all of us awaiting further speech. 

“Strange though this may seem to you,” the Banker 
continued, “it is even stranger to myself that I stand 
here alive and well — I, who was called dead and truly 
buried. Of all this mystery you will duly learn in time. 
My burial, you already know — but not that on the same 
night my body was stolen by thieves and carried to a 
dissecting room to serve the interests of scientific study. 
Yet I had not fully passed the bound of time and sense, 
not fully loosed my hold upon the physical, but was 
rather in that strange condition between two worlds 
where some slight circumstances may determine life or 
death, may snap the slender thread that binds the depart- 
ing spirit to the clay, or, fed by proper magnetic con- 
ditions, the body may attract its departing guest back to 
its tenement and lengthen out the lease of life. 

“Of all this strange tale you will duly learn, how one 
who knew of my condition through a power of sight 
and hearing not granted to most mortals, moved with a 
tender, Christ-like love, came to the rescue and supplied 
to my exhausted frame the vital touch which strengthened 
my depleted forces and called back at last the real self 
to live again in this frame of clay. It’s not the place or 
time for lengthy explanation. Suffice it to say, I was 
more in trance than death, though I freely confess I was 
so near the final stage of death that had not that blessed 
woman been inspired to do her part just when she did, I 
doubtless now would be a dweller in the realm of spirit. 
All, all of this stranger than fiction, will in due time be 
given to men to read and ponder as they choose. 

“Since July sixteenth, when I came secretly from the 
hospital here — I have been a guest of Ashton Hall. I 
alone am responsible for the strange lights and sounds 


253 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


that have caused so much alarm within your midst. 
Hereafter, not as a ghost at midnight hours, but as a 
quiet citizen in the light of day. I’ll live among the peo- 
ple of this city and seek the common good. 

But come to the library. Friend Jaflfery’s work is 
still unfinished.” 

Mr. Jaffery entered first. Lewish Parish lay upon 
the sofa, his feet toward the door by which we entered. 
He was recovering consciousness and scanned each face 
as it drew near. 

When the tall form of Mark Ashton appeared. Parish 
sprang to his feet as though an electric shock had passed 
through his frame, uttered a low cry and called out 

hoarsely, “Mark Ash ” and fell unconscious to the 

floor. 

Restoratives were applied and he soon recovered 
consciousness again, but he had a haunted expression 
about the eyes, a trembling of the lips, and a deadly 
pallor, that was both pitiful and painful to look upon, 
as he glanced furtively first at Mark Ashton and then 
at Jaflfery. 

“Tell him,” whispered the Banker. 

Then it was that Jaffery ’s manner changed. He was 
another man. For an hour he had been to Parish as a 
man of iron — stern, unbending, pitiless and even insult- 
ing. Now to this poor, cowering, suffering wretch as he 
lay there an object of compassion he became as tender as 
a mother to her suffering child. Jaffery had been acting 
a part before: the real Jaffery was now before us and 
full of the milk of human kindness and the spirit of 
compassion. His clever but unpleasant bit of acting had 
served its purpose: now he was free to follow the bent 
of his own merciful nature. 

Putting his arms around the shrinking, cowering 
form of Parish, he pressed the sufferer’s head against 
his own bosom, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and 
whispered as softly as a compassionate mother could to 
a suffering child: 

“Fear not, fear not, rather rejoice. See your victim 
lives. The grave has undone your foul deed. Mark 


254 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Ashton is alive and well. Confess it all — and seek for- 
giveness here and now.” 

The poor man looked the thanks he could not speak. 
He tried to look upon Mark Ashton’s face, but could 
not fix his gaze. He put his hand above his eyes and 
screened them, as if the sight was hurting him. 

He sat upon the sofa supported by Captain Sloane 
upon the one side and Jaffery on the other, uttering only 
inarticulate moans, but at times his lips essayed speech 
but failed to find the words. 

Then the generosity of Mark Ashton triumphed and 
drawing near he laid his hand upon the hand of Parish 
and said: “Speak out all the truth and fear not. My 
heart is full of pity, not of vengeance. Glad as I am to 
escape the grave and death for my own sake and for 
those I love, I can equally rejoice for your sake. Speak 
— we are all your friends.” 

Then it was that Parish found voice and falling on 
his knees at the feet of the Banker he seized and kissed 
his hand and cried aloud between his sobs: 

“Yes I did it! I shot my benefactor! I forgot all 
his kindness through all the years. Oh, cursed love of 
gold ! Oh, wretch accursed am I. I deserve a thousand 
deaths.” And turning away with a shudder he cried 
out : “I cannot, cannot look upon his face. It maddens me. 
Take me away — to prison — anywhere — I cannot look 
upon his face.” 

Then Jaffery produced a written confession setting 
forth the details of the crime, the studious preparation 
Parish had made, his carefully prepared alibi, his visit to 
the neighboring town, his going to the theatre, his quick 
departure thence, his speedy disguise as a farmer, his 

engagement of a livery, his swift drive to W e, his 

entrance to the Farmer’s Alley and to the bank, his hear- 
ing of the heated discussion between the Banker and 
Herman Molson, the fatal shot, his swift return and 
subsequent meeting with the agent — all in detail and 
prepared in advance by the detective for the signature of 
the criminal. 

Not a line had to be altered — not a detail omitted — 
save as Mr. Jaffery explained he did not know whether 


255 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


to place the theft of the revolver on the part of Parish 
in the afternoon of the murder, when he was known to 
have been in Ashton Hall, or in the evening just before 
the murder. This Mr. Jaffery had to guess at and so 
instructed his representative in re-enacting the murder 
scene to bring the revolver with him. 

It turned out on Parish’s statement that the revolver 
was secured in the afternoon so the surmise of Jaffery 
was correct and his dramatic presentation of the murder 
scene was absolutely true to life. 

Next day the city papers were full of the marvellous 
story. The mysteries of Ashton Hall were explained. 
The Banker was alive and well. The would-be murderer 
was in jail and a full confession of the crime had been 
made. 

For some weeks after Ashton Hall was thronged 
with friends who came with their congratulations and 
many reporters and journalists came to get authentic 
statements, and medical and scientific men came to ask 
questions and seek solutions of the many wonderful 
phases of the sickness, death and resuscitation. It was 
the sensation of the day and many seemed incapable of 
believing the truth of public reports till they had person- 
ally visited and looked into the face of the man who was 
dead and is now alive again. 

Rumor declares that even now in the neighboring 
towns are found men who steadfastly refuse to believe 
the story. 

Parish made full confession not only of the murder 
of the Banker, but also of the motives and feeling which 
actuated him, and even went so far as to include a re- 
cital of how he had deceived Mark Ashton from the be- 
ginning. The letter of commendation to the Banker 
which Parish had used as an introduction he had surrep- 
titiously obtained from a fellow passenger on board an 
Atlantic steamer — a passenger, by the way, who was 
missing when the vessel reached its port and never heard 
from again. 

Parish assumed this man’s name and from the be- 
ginning of his service with Mark Ashton had coveted 
the Banker’s gold. He sought the hand of the heiress 

256 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


but had been spurned. During the last four months he 
had noted changes in the Banker and by intercepting 
some mail between him and Mr. Williams had made 
d startling discovery of a secret in Mark Ashton’s life. 
He had noted, too, many indications of the Banker’s 
growing fondness for young Molson, and learned that 
the Banker for some reason was acting a part before 
the junior clerk and was in reality a great admirer of 
him, and desired to take him into the firm as a partner. 
And so, stung by the contemptuous refusal of the heiress 
to accept his hand he saw in the Banker’s growing fond- 
ness for Molson — despite all his wordy conflicts with 
that young man — and having discovered in correspond- 
ence which he had intercepted Mark Ashton’s contemp- 
lated changes in the business on New Year’s Day, how 
his hopes of getting control of the fortune were swiftly 
vanishing, unless something should delay or frustrate 
the plans already formulated. The quarrel between 
young Molson and the Banker — ^duly reported to him by 
the servant girl in his employ — showed the possibility 
of directing suspicion upon the junior clerk and helped 
to bring matters to a speedy crisis. 

Hence the carefully prepared alibi, and the dastardly 
deed, which brought such a world of suflfering to all con- 
cerned. 


257 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE MIDNIGHT RIDE AND ITS WEIRD 
RESULTS. 

Mr. John Gibson Hume has, after most persistent 
efforts, convinced me that I owe it to the cause of truth 
to tell the public through these pages what occurred on 
the evening of the 26th. and the morning of the 27th. 

of March 18 both at our home and on the way to 

W e and in the dissecting room of the Medical 

College. 

I make no pretense to literary form or grace of style, 
yet I hope my narrative of these remarkable events will 
not be lacking in clear statement and — wonderful as it may 
appear — will be accepted as the honest statement of an 
important witness. I am the only competent living wit- 
nes of events to be disclosed in the first part of this 
narrative. Most fortunately for me, and for my repu- 
tation for truth and sanity, I am not the only witness of 
what occurred in the dissecting room, and even if I were, 
the presence of a man living, moving, acting in our 
midst, who was once pronounced dead and actually 
buried, would furnish in itself sufficient confirmation of 
our story. 

I need hardly say it has been extremely difficult to 
overcome my native repugnance to publicity. When I 
found Mr. Hume actually contemplated the insertion of 
some accounts of the peculiar experience of Mrs. Wil- 
liams in our home life, as well as the striking episodes 
narrated in this chapter, my whole nature rose in revolt 
and I absolutely refused to write up this experience or 
to allow the secrets of our home life to be trailed before 
an incredulous and ignorant public. 

It was only when I became convinced that something 
would be published, probably gathered from rumor and 
its few facts distorted and enlarged by imagination, that 
I determined to make a statement under certain specified 
conditions. I frankly confess I am writing this chapter 
as much in defense of the sanctity of my home and the 
security of my own fireside, as for the purpose of round" 

258 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

ing out the editor’s narrative of Ashton Hall and its 
mysteries. 

I am, therefore, to state as much or as little of family 
history as I choose and the editor has agreed to allow no 
other member of his corps of contributors to announce 
matters that belong sacredly to our home life. I shall, 
therefore, tell only enough of our family history to 
make plain the special incidents that are here to be given 
in detail. 

I am told I need not enter upon the subject of Mr. 
Molson’s case nor the mutual interests the Banker and 
my family had on social and business lines Ijr the last 
seventeen years. These will be disclosed, I am informed^ 
in their proper place in the volume. I will, therefore, 
content myself with two general statements regarding 
the past. 

The first one is this : Mrs. Williams and the Banker’s 
wife were first cousins and we have, therefore, been very 
well acquainted with each other for over a score of years- 
We have been deeply in the confidence of the Banker 
and have known and assisted in the peculiar purposes 
he had in view and which were kept so closely veiled 
from the world till now. 

I enter upon no defense of the Banker. It is useless 
for two reasons. Those who know all the facts fully 
need make no excuse for him. Those who do not know 
his full life will doubtless continue to take his assumed 
life for the real one and would not be satisfied with such 
facts as we are prepared at present to give. With re- 
gard to the wisdom of the Banker’s project and secret 
purpose in life — well, every man must form his own 
opinion. This book will, I believe, in its various parts, 
disclose the whole story so every one must judge for 
himself. After the reader has perused the whole account 
he will be in a better position to judge of the wisdom or 
folly of what Mark Ashton essayed to do and whether 
the results attained were worthy the risks run and the 
sacrifices and sufferings endured. 

The second fact is one much more difficult for me, 
as a reserved man, to explain and for the reader to com- 
prehend and accept as truth. It is a subject Mrs. Will- 


259 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


iams and I have guarded sacredly from the public gaze 
for a third of a century and if we drag it out now before 
the critical and censorious judgment of men it is only, 
for reasons given above as a choice of the lesser of 
two evils. But for the strange and tragic story given in 
this volume, we should have enjoyed the seclusion and 
serenity of our peaceful home without attracting to us 
the doubt and scepticism, the ridicule and even persecu- 
tion of the public who are opposed to belief in the pos- 
sibility of present-day miracles. Every family has its 
skeleton, yet but few guarded the closet door more sedu- 
lously than we. 

For some generations the Molson family, from which 
my wife and Mrs. Ashton traced their lineage, has had 
strange experiences. From the reading of history and 
the close observations of what I have witnessed in my 
own family through Mrs. Williams, I do not doubt that 
if she had lived among the people of ancient Israel she 
would have been called a prophetess or seeress. In the 
darkness of the middle ages when the peculiar experiences 
of prophecy, seership and significant dreaming were 
looked upon as evidence of communion with 
the powers of evil, she might have been tried 
for the exercise of black art. In the days of the Salem 
Witchcraft had she lived in New England and the inner 
facts of our family history been duly published to the 
world, she would likely have been tried for witchcraft. 

And yet a more womanly woman, a more refined, sen" 
sitive and unselfish spirit, a more truthful, conscientious 
and unswervingly faithful soul never breathed the vital 
air. , If the reader knew her transparent simplicity, her 
devotion to truth and right, her love of all that is good 
and beautiful, her tenderness for all in distress and sor- 
row, he would not wonder that we, husband and child- 
ren and Mr. Molson whose character she largely formed, 
worship her as the best and noblest expression of good- 
ness and grace given in human life ! 

Yet from childhood this woman has, she asserts, seen 
what others could not see, heard what others could not 
hear, and been conscious in some unknown and unex- 
plainable way that about her were the forms of invisible 


260 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


intelligences and through their ministry she has become 
to her family and a very few chosen friends an oracle 
through which revelations of truth and messages of love 
have come from the invisible realms of life. 

When first I knew her and before our acquaintance 
had ripened into mutual affection, she frankly told me 
of her peculiar spiritual experiences and I heard the story 
with all the native doubt and scepticism of one educated 
as I had been in materialism and open unbelief of any 
life beyond this. Her stories seemed to me like “strange 
tales from some far off land,’’ like, in fact, a daring 
repetition in this age of science and rationalism, of the 
old wonder stories of humanity’s childhood — stories of 
angels and spirits and miracles and prophecy, all of which 
were laid away securely labelled in my mind under the 
one term, “superstitions.” 

I soon learned, however, to believe in her honesty 
and sincerity, much as I questioned the truth of her theo- 
ries, for no one could look into her eyes and listen to her 
speech without seeing sincerity written large on her coun- 
tenance and hearing the genuine ring of honesty in every 
tone of her voice. I set to work as a friend to solve for 
her the peculiar experiences which had, I thought, mys- 
tified and confused her brain but I ended after some five 
years trial in accepting her views as my own. 

I believed at first that all her experiences were men- 
tal, purely subjective, the work of her fancy, the play of 
an active imagination. In less than six months of 
friendly intercourse and study of her case I fully satis- 
♦ fied myself of the objective reality of many of her ex- 
periences. I need not detail events ; but when I found that 
her dreams were significant and often prophetic,^ her 
prophecies fulfilled, her warnings and premonitions, 
though not always veridical, yet generally so,' and that in 
her presence writings and pictures were produced in 
some unaccountable manner on paper supplied by my- 
self and held between two slates, I found my theory of 
explanation insufficient. 

I then adopted another hypothesis — which in fact ex- 
plained nothing for it sadly needed explaining— 
yet it sufficed to hold me, as in a half way station, for 

261 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


a time. This theory holds that the subconscious person- 
ality is endowed with certain remarkable powers and 
among them that of mind reading and the ability to af- 
fect without contact material objects, and in fact to 
bring about a variety of strange demonstrations outside 
the organism of its possessor, and that through these un- 
canny powers of the living man, rather than the intelli- 
gent forces of discarnate spirits, the so-called miracles 
were wrought. 

It was in vain that Mrs. Williams pointed out to me 
that in either case the so-called writing must be spiritual 
in its origin for it certainly was performed frequently 
without touch — and that in nearly every case such writ- 
ing claimed to be the work of a departed spirit, a distinct 
intelligence, and that the writing furnished information 
altogether unknown to the individual in whose presence 
it occurred — and that the theory of a separate intelli- 
gence or discarnate spirit as the author of the writing, 
was much more rational and involved less difficulty than 
the theory I had embraced. It made no difference. I 
was an Ephraim joined to his idols. 

After some months of discussion on this point, it 
chanced that when I was in a distant city in which I was 
an utter stranger, and in presence of one endowed with 
similar mysterious powers, I saw a form grow up before 
.me, taking shape out of a wisp of swirling, milky white 
nebulous something and becoming at last as clear in out- 
line and distinct in shape as any human body. As I 
looked, to my amazement there stood beside me dripping 
with water, a body having every resemblance of height, 
hair, face and manner to my college mate drowned some 
days previous, before my very eyes in the river. He spoke 
but little, but gave his name and related in part the cir- 
cumstances of his death, and where the body would be 
found. When we afterwards found the body in the spot 
indicated, I gave up the theory I had so persistently, not 
to say obstinately, held. I was forced to admit the pos- 
sibility of the soul’s survival of bodily death and of its 
ability under certain conditions to communicate with 
mortals. 

Then I began a somewhat systematic and extensive 
262 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


study of the so-called miracles of all religions and was 
surprised at two thinp : first, the great similarity in them, 
as described by their various adherents, and secondly, 
the fact that all of them seemed to occur directly 
through the presence and power of angels or spirits, or 
in presence of those who, according to the records, had 
the power to see and converse with angels and spirits. 
I was also surprised to find that, admitting the continuity 
of life and the agency of spirits in human aflfairs, all re- 
ligions seemed to be very similar in general character. I 
also found this hypothesis would explain many seemingly 
unexplainable characters and happenings in history and 
a multitude of reports and rumors found among all na- 
tions as to apparitions and reappearances of the dead. In 
short my five years’ experimentation ended in my adop- 
tion of Mrs. Williams theory of psychic experiences, 
rather than in the solving of the problem on a materialis- 
tic basis. Small wonder that while my intellect was en- 
gaged studying these problems in the presence of a very 
attractive and beautiful girl, my heart became touched 
with the beauty and charm of her face and manner, and 
the purity of her thought and speech. When, after some 
delay, she accepted me as her future husband, it was with 
the distinct understanding that her peculiar experiences 
were to be kept a profound secret from the world and dis- 
closed to only a few bosom friends of her own choosing. 
Mrs. Williams was always impressed with the thought 
that only a few, a chosen few, were ready to receive, un- 
derstand and profit by these mysterious happenings, and 
so even our own children were not fully instructed in 
them, and when Mr. Molson came into our home circle 
as a child of three, it was understood that he, too, was 
to be excluded from the full knowledge of the family 
secret. This, I am told, will explain some passages in 
Mr. Molson’s journal. 

From the period when Herman Molson left us to the 
date of the tragedy at Ashton Hall, I had from the lips of 
Mrs. Williams many intimations of the coming of dark 
days into the life of our dear young friend— son we al- 
most call him for we ever loved him as our son. 

At one time it was a dream in which she saw him 

263 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


at sea upon a shattered boat, rising and falling on the 
lofty billows, midst pitiless wind and rain, clinging for 
life to frail timbers and scanning eagerly the horizon 
during flashes of light for some friendly face or hand, 
but in vain. Then again it was a day dream or vision 
in which she saw him wandering in the maze of a track- 
less forest alone and discomfitted, and trying to find a 
pathway out to civilization again. At still another time she 
heard him calling for help, and in tones of such despair 
as wrung her heart, from some deep pit into which 
he had fallen and which hid him entirely from view and 
threatened his destruction. 

But in all of these experiences which she interpreted 
to me — knowing the meaning of the signs and symbols 
as she did — she caught, before they completely passed, 
a glimpse of a rainbow which she confidently declared 
meant his safe survival of the storm and his great joy 
and happiness after excessive trials and sufferings. 

Coming out of these experiences she was always more 
or less agitated and generally in tears, for she loved Her- 
man as her own son and took a noble pride in his charac- 
ter and accomplishments. 

Yet Mrs. Williams was never long depressed for she 
declared that all his trials were temporary and for a pur- 
pose. They could not be escaped, he must pass through 
them, but out of them would come as gold seven times 
refined. 

And so when the news of the tragedy reached us 
and Herman’s great grief and forebodings, she simply 
announced that she was not surprised nor faint-hearted; 
the dark days were coming but he would not lose either 
life or hope and that the destiny that shapes our ends 
was becoming more and more manifest in his life and 
events were ripening to a climax. 

“My poor, dear suffering Herman” — she would say — 
as if he were present, for she has the strange fancy and 
habit of talking to the absent as if they were near her — • 
“the dark days are at hand and darker ones are to follow. 
Be patient and brighter days will surely come.” 

For some time preceding the death and burial of the 
Banker, the wonderful experiences of our mid-night ride 

264 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


and the strange service in the dissecting room, Mrs. Will- 
iams was much depressed in spirits and on coming out 
of these fits of depression and gloom, would assure me 
that wonderful events were at hand and she seemed to 
be passing under the shadows of these forth-coming 
events. 

Once in a while she spoke to me under influence 
prophetic words which found fulfilment in the days which 
followed. 

“He goes down to the valley — the shadows fall upon 
him — the earth opens her bosom to receive him — ^yet the 
sands are not yet out of his glass — he has much work to 
do here — he shall not fall but rise — they that are for him 
are greater than all the forces against him. Out of thy 
hands, O Death, I will rescue him — truth and love shall 
triumph.” These were some of the enigmatic words that 
I heard her speak. 

She was accustomed when any sorrow or trouble was 
upon her family or friends to be much in her own white 
room on the third flat know to our family as “The 
Sanctuary.” 

Here she waited upon the spirit realm and in this 
“secret place” believed things were possible to her which 
she was incapable of realizing anywhere else. 

No one but she and I ever crossed its threshold. I 
was permitted only rarely to enter this room ; into it she 
always went robed in white. The room was chaste, the 
walls, floors, ceilings and furniture were white. 

Sometimes for days at a time we saw but little of her 
and for some days preceding the events of this chapter 
she favored us with but little of her company. 

At dusk on the evening of the third day of her “wait- 
ing” she came down and joined our service of song and 
talked cheerily with us for an hour. She drank some 
water and ate a small piece of bread and bade the child- 
ren good night. 

“I shall see you later,” she said to me as she re- 
paired again to her lonely room. “Be ready to come to 
me as soon as the bell rings. And, husband dear, is the 
span of blooded bays in the stable ? I have an impression 

265 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


we shall drive this night. I shall know all in due season. 
Have them harnessed and ready if we need them.” 

I could conceive of no possible use for the blooded 
bay team or any cause for a night journey. Indeed, horse- 
man as I pride myself on being and fearless of wild and 
mettled horses as a rule, I should hesitate long before I 
attempted and on a dark night, to hold the reins over 
these spirited brutes. However, I saw no harm in acced- 
ing to her wish in having them in readiness. Accordingly 
I ordered my coachman to see that they were harnessed. 
He looked at me as though doubting his senses, but hav- 
ing satisfied himself that he had heard aright, proceeded 
to obey orders. 

Half an hour later the hall servant came in to an- 
nounce that the coachman had the bays in readiness bur 
had been badly bitten on the arm by one of them and the 
doctor had been summoned. If I needed a coachman 
one of the farm hands would be in readiness. 

It was precisely half-past twelve — I noted it by the 
mantel clock just opposite where I sat reading — when 
the bell from the “Sanctuary” gave a vigorous ring and 
I, ascending the stairs, found my wife hurrying from the 
room prepared for a journey. 

“The team, the team !” she shouted rather than spoke. 
“The team at once — Mark Ashton’s body is stolen from 
the grave. We have no time to lose — the team, the 
team !” 

I saw she was not in her normal state and instantly 
decided to follow implicity her directions. The farm hand 
assisted me and in a few moments the carriage was at the 
door. Mrs. Williams and I took the front seat, the 
man sat behind and the start was made. 

It was a dark night. The moon had become obscured 
by clouds but there was still light enough to see the road- 
way and there seemed little danger at this hour of meet- 
ing carriages. 

I gave them their heads and we drove at a rattling 
pace along the river road, down past the old Brown mill, 
over the cross plains bridge and had reached the Cruik- 
shanks wood before anything of note occurred. Here, as 
all who are familiar with the locality will remember, the 

266 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


road is somewhat rough and the turnpike high, and as the 
clouds had thickened, I saw the necessity of caution and 
of “slowing up.’^ But this was precisely what the horses 
did not want. They had gained their second breath, be- 
come intoxicated with the cool night air and the frenzy 
and excitement of our novel trip, and both began to show 
signs of impatience and temper — the off one, vicious 
brute that he is had bitten a large piece from the coach- 
man’s arm a few hours before and now began to rear 
and plunge in a disagreeable and very exciting way. 

I am a strong man and I had upon those bays a bit 
which I thought could curb any horses in the country, 
yet I felt the team was gradually getting beyond my con- 
trol. From a trot they broke occasionally — first one and 
then the other — into a gallop and by and by, both of them 
were running. We were at this time past the narrowest 
and worst of our road but were rapidly approaching the 
city where teams were liable at any moment to be met 
and where — unless the horses could be brought under con- 
trol — disaster or even death seemed almost certain. 

Meanwhile, my wife sat as one dazed and silent, 
whether from fear or faith I could not tell, until we 
reached the post road just outside the corporation, when 
suddenly springing up she seized the reins, crying out in 
deep masculine voice, “Give way. Give way. Life de- 
pends on it. The reins ! The reins ! !” And before I 
had fully sensed the situation, the reins were in her hands 
and the horses began to slacken their pace though still 
running. 

My arms fell lifeless by my side — so great the strain 
had been upon them for the last hour — and I sat in dumb 
amazement as I saw a woman subduing the team which 
a few moments before threatened to get beyond my own 
control and destroy our lives. 

From a gallop to a trot the horses settled down in 
pace and gradually seemed tamed of their excitement. 

We reached the town and turned on Main Street when 
the city clock pealed out the hour of two. Then occurred 
a strange thing. 

Roused as from a reverie by the striking of the clock, 
Mrs. Williams shouted, “We must hurry.” Seizing the 

267 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


whip which none had ever dared to draw upon the 
spirited animals, she struck each one a stinging blow. 

Like a flash both leaped the same instant, and, trembl- 
ing in every limb, scarce touched the ground as the car- 
riage swayed and hurled from side to side with the rapid- 
ity of our motion. Down Broad Street for three blocks, 
we passed the bank, the stone church on the corner, the 
business block — all of which rushed by us like the wind, 
and, swinging round the circle of the Park at such a 
breakneck speed that it seemed every instant must be our 
last, up Sixth Street to Pine, and down Pine to Locust, 
with terrific pace until without warning the horses 
stopped with such suddenness as to almost precipitate us 
out of the carriage. 

Turning to the frightened farm hand in the rear seat, 
Mrs. Williams — who now assumed entire control — cried 
out: '‘Call Thomas Jaffery who lives here. Tell him to 
come at once.” 

The horses stood trembling with excitement, their 
bodies covered with white foam, and their shapely ears 
constantly in motion till Jaffery walked out quickly and 
took his seat in the carriage. He brought a couple of 
revolvers with him, one of which he gave to me and one 
to the farm hand, remarking, “You may need then; keep 
them in readiness.” 

W e were again under motion — this time more subdued 
but still rapid — and in a few moments were in the shadow 
of one of the large buildings of the Medical College. 
Here emerged out of the shadows two policemen whom 
Jaffery addressed and to whom he gave orders. “Follow 
me,” he said as we alighted from the carriage and ap- 
proached the door. “Have you secured the guard and 
the key?” asked Jaffery of the man at the door. 

“The guard is here in irons and the door is open” an* 
swered the man. Then Jaffery and one policeman as- 
cended the steps followed by Mrs. Williams and myself, 
while the third policeman served as rear guard. We 
passed into a wide and well lighted hall, down a stair- 
way to a narrow and poorly lighted passage way, into a 
second and a third hall when we reached the entrance 


268 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


to a large room in which were six tables, covered with 
white cloths. 

As we entered two men near a table at the farther 
corner, suddenly turned, and would have fled, but Jaffery 
ran so quickly to one door and his comrade to the other, 
leaving the second policeman and myself to guard the 
door by which we entered, that the young men saw the 
futility of attempted flight and readily submitted to be 
handcuffed. 

The doors were then locked. Mrs. Williams stood 
at the head of the center table, and Thomas Jaffery 
slowly lifted the white cover first from the heaa and then 
from the entire body disclosing to us the pale and ema- 
ciated features of Mark Ashton. 

Then I observed Mrs. Williams assume an attitude of 
prayer with clasped hands and uplifted face, and a solemn 
sense of awe came over us which hushed us all into pro- 
found silence. 

For some moments she remained with upturned face 
in mute appeal to Heaven. Even the shrinking awe- 
stricken students and the sturdy policemen felt the pathos 
of that scene which held Jaffery and myself as by some 
magic spell. Then her lips moved in prayer: “We thank 
thee Oh, Thou Infinite One, that Thou hast brought us 
the light of life and given us to know that death is but a 
shadow and life the one reality. 

“We bless thee that through the administration of 
angels we have been taught that we shall arise trium- 
phant out of the arms of death into the life that is ever- 
lasting, and progressive in its unfolding of power and 
wisdom and love. 

“We rejoice that life is ever lord of death and that 
this knowledge is fast coming into the darkened minds 
and sorrowful hearts of men. 

“We thank thee. Oh, Father, that through the blessed 
angels thou hast brought us to this place for this work. 
May wisdom and power and the blessing of the realms 
of Spirit be upon us here, and now may we have strength 
sufficient to meet the demands of this crucial hour. 
Amen.” 

♦ * ♦ * * 


269 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


It was a strange scene — and probably never had there 
been one just like it. A large hall with bodies of the 
dead laid out for dissection, two manacled culprits sitting 
on low stools at our feet and watching with intense inter- 
est every word and movement — two policemen awed as 
their faces showed by their strange surroundings and the 
solemn manner of the leader, while Jatfery and myself, 
full of wonder, reverence, vague hope and expectation, 
stood watching one whom we conceived to be acting under 
the guidance of an Invisible Intelligence and Power. 

She paused and repeated a few lines from Tennyson’s 
^‘In Memoriam” and Emerson’s, “Soul Prophecy.” 

“How pure in heart and sound in head. 

With what divine affections bold 

Should be the man whose thoughts would hold. 

An hour’s communion with the dead. 

In vain shalt thou or any call 
The spirits from their golden day. 

Except like them, thou too canst say. 

My spirit is at peace with all.” 

* * * * 

All before us lies the way; 

Give the past unto the wind ; 

All before us is the day; 

Night and darkness are behind. 

Eden with its angels bold. 

Love and flowers and coolest sea. 

Is not ancient story told. 

But a glowing prophecy. 

* * 

When the soul to sin hath died. 

True and beautiful and sound. 

Then all earth is sanctified, 

Upsprings paradise around. 


270 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Then shall come the Eden days, 
Guardian watch from Seraph eyes, 
Angels on the slanting rays, 

Voices from the opening skies. 

From this spirit land afar, 

All disturbing force shall flee; 

Stir nor toil nor hope shall mar. 

Its immortal unity.” 


Then broke from her lips in ringing tones, clear and 
musical : — 

‘Xead, kindly Light, amid th’ encircling gloom, 

Lead thou me on. 

The night is dark, and I am far from home ; 

Lead thou me on. 

Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see the distant scene ; 
One step enough for me. 

‘‘So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still 
Will lead me on 

O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrents, till 
The night is gone. 

And with the morn those angels faces smile 
Which I have loved long since and lost awhile.” 

And as the closing words fell from her lips she 
stooped over the prostrate form of the dead Banker, and, 
lifting his head upon her arm, she pressed it to her 
bosom, crying out in clear, resonant and earnest voice: 
“Mark Ashton, come back to this tabernacle of clay! 
Thou hast yet a hold upon this mortal form. Thou 
canst again re-animate it. Seize again thy body and come 
back to earth once more. 

“Come back to those who love and long for your 
presence. Come back, thy earth life is not finished. 
Come back and complete thy life mission ; undo the exist- 
ing wrongs and make thy children happy. 

“Come back, Mark Ashton, come back!” 


271 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Her voice rolled in sonorous majesty through the 
large room and echoed through the corridors. 

What was it? Everyone was startled, for from the 
the bloodless lips a moan was distinctly heard. Then, as 
we all gathered in breathless expectancy near the 
Banker’s body and stood gazing on his pallid face, we 
saw a slight trembling of the eyelids, then there came 
forth another moan, the eyes opened but closed again. 
We saw a movement of the chest; instantly we set to 
work to rub and chafe the arms and body to produce 
some semblance of regular breathing. Soon again the 
eyes opened and closed. In half an hour there was a 
slow breathing. One of the medical faculty was sum- 
moned and restoratives given. There was no speech or 
apparent consciousness, but every indication of return- 
ing life. 

Those present were pledged to refrain from any men- 
tion of the incident for the present, the culprits being 
freed on pledge of profoundest secrecy. The body was 
wrapped in warm flannels and conveyed to a private ward 
of the hospital and two days after to a private hospital, 
where, step by step, Mark Ashton fought his way back 
to the control of his physical organism and to the con- 
sciousness and memories of his former life. 

It was a week before he spoke and some weeks be- 
fore his physicians were sufficiently assured of a full 
recovery to warrant breaking the news to his daughters. 

When the body had been given over to the doctors, 
Mrs. Williams seemed to sink into unconsciousness. We 
carried her to the carriage, Mr. Jaffery accompanying 
us home. 

The morning light was breaking over the eastern 
diills as we laid her to rest in her room, thus closing the 
-most eventful night’s work in which I ever participated. 
Mrs. Williams slept until six o’clock that evening and 
when she awoke seemed in no way ill, except from weak- 
ness and exhaustion from which, with good care and 
-jiursing, she speedily recovered. 

John Eben Williams. 


272 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


DISAPPEARANCE OF HERMAN MOLSON. 

(The Diary Continued.) 

New York, Sept. 28th, 18 — . 

After the stormy experiences of the past three 
months, I am again permitted, through the faithful kind- 
ness of my friend, Herbert Williams, to look upon and 
possess my Diary again. Forced from my hands as I 
was hiding it at “The Willows” by the police who arrest- 
ed me, under the impression they would find in it some 
evidences that would incriminate me, I have now the 
great satisfaction of learning that Lewis Parish has con- 
fessed the crime and I stand vindicated so far as the mur- 
der of Mark Ashton is concerned. 

Stranger still, the murder turns out to have been only 
attempted murder, for Herbert writes me that Mark 
Ashton lives. He has seen him, conversed with him, and 
his rescue from the bonds of death is clearly traceable to 
my truest friend, to whom I owe more than to all others 
combined. I can but rejoice for much as I despise and 
even hate many of the qualities of character in that most 
singular man, I cannot but admire him in many ways and 
rejoice that he has opportunities still of cultivating the 
good and repressing the evil in his peculiar nature. 

What a revelation it must have been to Miss Ashton 
and Miss Lucille! The events that have occurred there 
within the last eight months would make the framework 
of a thrilling novel. 

But “vindicated” did I say I was? Alas! that I 
should have to write it. I was cruelly wronged and ir- 
retrievably injured by well-meaning yet over-zealous and 
ignorant officers of the law, a law that should seek just 
as zealously to protect the good name and unblemished 
reputation of the innocent as to ferret out and punish the 
guilty. Officials assume an immense responsibility in 
arresting men on purely circumstantial evidence, and 
often outrage the feelings, ruin the reputation and over- 


273 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

shadow the lives of those who, like myself, are purely 
victims of circumstances. 

And what public vindication can ever make good to 
me the shame, the horror, the unspeakable dread, the 
inward loathing and disgust attaching itself to arrest and 
imprisonment? We shall never have justice done in this 
or any other land until men who order the arrest of inno- 
cent persons are subject to adequate punishment them- 
selves. 

Bitter as had been many of my experiences of the 
past year, all of them seemed trivial and commonplace 
compared with this. When the steel was placed upon 
my wrists and I fully realized the awful catastrophe that 
had come upon me, the shame and disgrace of it almost 
smothered me. It seemed as if the very air was poisoned 
and my lungs refused to breathe it. How gladly I would 
have laid down the burden of my lonely life at that hour ! 
How gladly I would have passed into the dreamless 
slumber of eternal silence, or into a world where I should 
be free from man’s inhumanity to man, and where false 
and cruel words, and more cruel deeds would be un- 
known. 

One thing saved me. The very extremity of my 
grief and anguish brought on a sort of torpor in which 
for a time I was dead to my immediate surroundings. 
Whether it was sleep or not, I do not know; whether a 
normal dream or a day dream I cannot tell, but for the 
most part of the first day and night I was mercifully 
saved from that extreme soul suffering which proceeded 
and followed this period. In this state I was, fancy free, 
at liberty, it seemed, to roam the universe and I seemed 
much of the time to be moving swiftly through space 
with the rapidity of thought. Nor was I alone. About 
me, I thought, were beautiful beings whose radiant faces 
and glistening garments were sweet to look upon and 
whose words of cheer and hope and ineffably sweet 
music thrilled and delighted me. 

And again I was in the midst of trees and palms and 
flowers, lovely landscapes, sparkling fountains and flow- 
ing streams, whose every motion was music. Birds of 
varied plumage charmed the eye with their bright colors 


274 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


and filled the air with an infinite variety of sweet song. 
The very flowers were musical and the dancing light 
upon the fountains was musical. I remember watching 
buds unfold, and at the same time, listening to their 
ethereal song. I was in a realm where all of nature’s 
operations were attuned to music. 

But this did not last beyond the first day. On the 
second day when Herbert came and brought me back to 
the realm of physical realities, my visions vanished, and 
the present with all its unspeakable shame and horror 
held me firmly in its grip. 

Then began that trembling vibration passing over 
first one lobe of the brain then another, and the slow, 
creepy sensation over my limbs and arms, followed by 
a nervous dread and sinking apprehension of danger 
that cannot be fitly told in words. What I suffered in 
the next two days cannot be understood save by sensitive 
natures like my own who have felt the steel enter their 
souls. Even now I have only to recall myself as sitting 
in that narrow cell to live over again the hell of torment 
— partly physical but mostly spiritual — that I endured 
during those awful days and nights. 

On the evening of the third day’s imprisonment, 
I was blessed with some natural sleep, and awaking 
about midnight passed into the semi-trance condition in 
which I was not wholly lost to consciousness of my sur- 
roundings but enjoyed a changing phantasmagoria of 
scenes and forms that served to relieve my mental strain 
and suffering. Gradually consciousness to surroundings 
seemed to have been suspended for in the dream that 
followed I did not appear to be in prison but in my own 
attic room at “The Willows.” 

Here in my dream there stood beside me a heavenly 
woman — I know no better term with which to describe 
her — of most lovely countenance, beaming with kindness 
and good will and clad in shining raiment thrown in 
graceful folds about her form. She stood close beside 
my bed and I gazed upon her, strange to say, without 
either fear or curiosity as to who she was or what her 
mission. She stood with bared arms holding in her left 
hand a small scroll and pointing with her right hand to 


275 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the record of the scroll she read in clear and beautifully 
modulated voice a record which I at once recognized as 
the New Testament story of Peter’s deliverance from 
prison by the angel and found in the Twelfth Chapter 
of the Acts of the Apostles. Here is the story as read 
to me in my dream vision, but I noted on recalling it 
next day that its phraseology seemed a little peculiar and 
got the explanation only when I read the story after my 
release in the revised version: 

“Peter therefore was kept in prison : but prayer was made 
earnestly of the church unto God for him. And when Herod 
was about to bring him forth, the same night Peter was sleep- 
ing between two soldiers, bound with two chains : and guards 
before the door kept the prison. 

“And behold, an angel of the Lord stood by him, and a light 
shined in the cell; and he smote Peter on the side, and awoke 
him, saying. Rise up quickly. And his chains fell off from his 
hands. 

“And the angel said unto him, Gird thyself, and bind on 
thy sandals. And he did so. And he saith unto him. Cast thy 
garments about thee, and follow me. 

“And he went out and followed and he wist not that it 
was true that was done by the angel, but thought he saw a 
vision. 

“And when they were past the first and second ward, they 
came unto the iron gate that leadeth into the city; which opened 
to them of its own accord : and they went out and passed on 
through one street and straightway the angel departed from 
him.” 


Then she looked up from the reading of the writing 
and smiled on me with such love and tenderness, such 
hope and cheer, that I seemed to be in a heaven of holy 
rapture for a moment and then she spake: 

“Thinkest thou, Herman, that all God’s angels are dead? 
That Providence does not still watch over human lives, influ- 
ence human minds and hearts, throw light on human pathways, 
and, sometimes, still open prison doors when some great cause 
requires angelic aid, or some true soul is sorely tried and needs 
deliverence? Thinkest thou the former days were better than 
thine own — that God loved his children more in days gone by 
or that the angels then were nearer unto men, or that what then 
was possible and true is now no longer possible? I tell thee, 
Nay. God’s love and power are still the same, heaven is even 
nearer now than in the olden times, and but for fear and doubt 
which block the way, God’s holy angels still would walk and 
talk with men. 


276 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“Fear not, but trust. Around thee though unseen are those 
who live and minister and soon will find for thee a path to 
liberty.” 

A path to liberty? I knew not what it meant just 
then for I was lost to all my physical surroundings but 
when I awoke to my environments the full meaning of 
this pledge burst on me with the shock of revelation. A 
path to liberty? But how and when? Whether it was 
that I was enervated by suflfering and could not see the 
difficulties in the way, or was so inspired by these hope- 
ful words that my soul refused to recognize such diffi- 
culties as stone walls and iron bars, I know not, but I 
certainly believed the message true and as certainly did 
I look upon my deliverance as a question of time only. 
With me deliverance seemed a fact: the manifestation 
of that fact in my escape from the cell was the only 
thing I waited for. 

I now approach a statement of my experiences which 
I should hesitate long before penning if this record were 
not necessary to account for my changed conditions. 

My one excuse for recording it here is that, however, 
doubtful any possible theory of interpretation of this 
narrative may be, the facts back of it and underneath 
it are absolutely true. I shall not theorize — I shall not 
assume to know the true and only interpretation of the 
strange facts — I shall hold my mind open to future ex- 
planations if any may be found — ^but I will set down the 
facts. I shall state them as clearly and as accurately as 
I can. 

I was wide awake and it was three o’clock in the 
morning for I had just counted the strokes of the city 
clock. I was lying on my pallet and my mind was quite 
at ease for a firm belief in coming deHverance had thrown 
its strength and blessing over all my being. 

I heard a carriage drive along the gravelled walk and 
past the corridor in which I was confined. Then I heard 
the gate swing and a door open and close. Perhaps my 
hearing was at this time preternaturally acute: I know 
not, but I do know that in my dream trances it was 
often so. 

Then I heard — or shall I say I sensed — a mingling 
277 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of voices in that part of the building where the jailer is 
accustomed to meet his visitors, and then the sounds 
ceased. I heard no words so as to distinguish them and 
the voices seemed far, far away and faint yet real, rather 
than a memory or an echo of some past experiences. 

Soon my thoughts were attracted back to myself and 
I become conscious in a way that some one or something 
was in the cell and near me. My eyes strained through 
the gloom to the corner of the cell unconsciously locating 
the indefinable something that I felt rather than knew 
was there, unseen, unmanifested, yet surely there. 

Then I saw a filmy, white nebulous something mov- 
ing spirally upward. It had no definable shape but was 
full of movement and suddenly she — the woman of my 
dream vision, stood before me and said in tones that 
thrilled me “Come.” 

That is the last I know or remember save that I was 
dimly conscious of the passing of time. I was in com- 
pany and we were moving on and on and on. 

I recovered consciousness on the Wienowsky Bridge 
and found myself possessed of everything essential to 
the traveller, a grip containing clothing, money and pro- 
visions. I remembered it was but three miles further on 
to Huntville station and that the four-thirty express for 
New York would soon be due. 

Making a few necessary changes in my attire I dis- 
carded some of my clothing and donned that which lov- 
ing friends had evidently selected for me with care. 

In a few days time and with the aid of the money so 
liberally supplied me, I had effected changes in my per- 
sonal appearance somewhat marvellous, and under an 
assumed name I buried Herman Molson and all his sor- 
row and shame from the gaze of mankind and as Signor 
Guiseppi began my musical career in the great metrop- 

I am now fairly well established here and start in a 
few days with an orchestra I have organized to give 
concerts m various cities and towns. 

I shall probably take in W e but have no desire 

to revisit Ashton Hall. 


278 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I learn from Herbert, with whom I occasionally com- 
municate and who pledges strictest secrecy, that my 
friends with few exceptions believe me dead. 

It is well. Let the bitter pain and sorrow of my 

career in W e be buried with the old name by which 

I was known beyond the possibility of a resurrection. 


279 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE ROSE ARBOR ON CHESTNUT ISLAND. 

(Herman Molson^s Diary Continued.) 

I have reached again the town of W e, in our 

professional tour of the country. For a year I have 
sought to free myself as far as possible from the mem- 
ories of the bitter past, yet I found it impossible to 
prevent my mind running over again the varied and at- 
tractive incidents in which I had played a part during 
my six months’ clerkship and professional work in this 
quiet hamlet. 

The stern and rugged character of the Banker and 
his singular power to fascinate the mind while his moral 
character shocked you, the winsome Lucille, a very in- 
carnation of goodness, the beautiful Helena who won 
first my admiration for her grace and beauty while she 
repelled me by her lack of the womanly moral qualities, 
and then — as I learned to read her character more cor- 
rectly, or as her character underwent a transformation — 
aroused within me that mad passion which threatened 
to rob me of reason and of life — all came back with a 
vividness and a reality that caused me to live over again 
the pain and pleasure of that memorable time. 

I knew that I was on dangerous ground and that for 
my own peace and security I should forever forget and 
effectually blot out that six months’ record of my life. 

But with all my efforts I could not — in the atmos- 
phere of that town — succeed and in the two days of my 

stay in W e I passed in thought and feeling through 

every changing scene of the panorama of my W e 

life experiences. My conferences with the Banker and 
Parish, my experiences at the Perkin’s cottage, my de- 
nunciation of the Banker’s dishonesty and cruelty, my 
visits to Ashton Hall and growing interest in my fair 
pupil, the discovery of my passion and my attempted 
flight, the quarrel with the Banker, the murder, the in- 
vestigation, my imprisonment and disgrace — I lived them 


280 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


all over in my room at the hotel and through the sleep- 
less watches of my nights while there. 

Strong as the temptation was to visit that part of 
the town, to catch a glimpse again of Mark Ashton, now 
so mysteriously restored to life, to look once more on 
the face that had been to me a vision of more than 
earthly beauty, I resisted all and summoned up my sense 
of pride and injury and bade myself curse the place, but 
my curses turned in some way into pitying blessings on 
my lips. Even my resentment against the Banker had 
been largely smothered in the tragedy that had fallen on 
him and on Ashton Hall. Into that dark tragedy had 
fallen also my dream of love and hope and now over the 
weary wastes of life there seemed before me one long, 
lonely journey, a steady plodding march, without the sun- 
shine of companionship or the cheering music of friendly 
voices. 

The past vision of happiness remained, a face and a 
form divinely fair, and that was all. A vision of love 
and beauty forever to be worshipped as we worship some 
distant and unapproachable star, but never to be incar- 
nated into reality. Henceforth, life meant for me the 
silent worship of a Memory and a ceaseless devotion to a 
Muse. 

As I walked down one of the old familiar streets by 
moonlight after the performance of our opera there stole 
over me the memory of those happy, hopeful days when 
as her teacher I was brought almost daily within souno 
of her sweet voice and the sight of her surpassing beauty. 

I found myself recalling with startling vividness the day 
— the ‘Terfect Day” — which in my Diary I attempted 
but failed to describe — which I spent with the young 
ladies of Ashton Hall upon Chestnut Island. 

“Tomorrow” I said to myself, “I will take a boat and 
row up to the Island and spend a few hours living over 
again the joys and pleasures of that Perfect Day.” 

It was in vain that reason warned me that the more 
I revived these memories of a pleasant past, the bitterer 
would seem, on my awakening to present realities, my 
everyday sad and solitary life. I knew it all — but like 
the victim of the intoxicating cup I was willing to buy 

281 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

a present gratification and pay largely for it in future 
sufferings. Let me be happy even in a Fool s Paradise 
for a few hours, I would pay the penalty gladly in future 
sorrow and penitence. 

On the following morning I secured a boat and after 
a half hour’s vigorous pull found the little cove of Chest- 
nut Island and tying my boat was soon again upon that 
well-remembered spot. 

It was a golden October morning and how clearly 
it recalled to mind and heart, as I trod the pathway to 
the vine-clad arbor, the experiences of a year before. 
What a contrast the memories of that day presented to 
my own sad and desolate present. It was like some su- 
pernal vision of indescribable beauty and joy that floats 
tantalizingly before the gaze of a desert traveller and 
vanishes, only to make the grim rocks and burning sands 
of his surroundings drearier and more desolate. 

I knew the vision of a dead past was all that was left 
me yet I could not refrain: I must allow my imagina- 
tion stimulated by these eloquent surroundings — every 
spot in this island had its voice and memory — ^to lead me 
through all the happy mazes of thought and feeling of 
my former visit. 

I first traversed the island as I had a year before 
with my fair companions. As I did so each turn from 
my pathway, each new angle of vision, each fresh glimpse 
of the river, seemed alive with memories of the two 
breathing and beautiful women who a year before in- 
toxicated my senses with their loveliness and charmed 
me with their words of wit and wisdom. They seemed 
near me, and at times I could recall accurately not only 
the words spoken but their very looks and gestures and 
even catch the intonations and cadences of their voices. 

I came back and seated myself in the rose arbor by 
the river. 

The solitude was charming to me and the mingled 
sounds of nature and animated life about me made up 
a chorus and a harmony that was soothing and restful. 
The main theme of the music seemed to be the low har- 
monies of the waters with occasional under-tones, and 
to this was added the singing of a gentle zephyr among 

282 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


the leaves, while for variations there was an occasional 
pouring forth of joyful notes from the birds in the 
branches overhead, mingled with the chirp and twitter of 
ihe squirrels and insects. Nature was harmonious and 
beneficent and seemed to me to be saying, "‘Rest, my 
children, rest and be happy on my bosom. Be happy and 
sing for joy — for love reigns over all — the lays of sorrow 
and sadness pass away.’’ 

I was alone upon the island. 

I took my violin, and tuning up its strings, I played 
a soft and sweet accompaniment to the mingled har- 
monies of nature. 

Then I recalled how a year before under an inspira- 
tion that had come upon me from Helena’s wonderful 
music I had told with my violin the story ot my life. 

Could I recall it? Yes, the circumstances were fav- 
orable, the environments were the same — or at least to 
my active imagination seemed so. I would try. 

I started and I believe correctly reproduced the “Song 
of Rejoicing” and finishing it, paused a moment. 

Then I gave — while memory painted again the thrill- 
ing scene of a year ago in the cottage on the hill with 
two hearers listening intently — “The Song of Child- 
hood” — and then “Youthful Sorrows and Aspirations” 
and had just reached that part of my music story where 
I had interpreted for them my poem “Longing” when I 
heard as clearly, and distinctly as ever strains of music 
fell upon my ear, a repetition of my last passages, ap- 
parently from the cottage on the hill ! 

Astounded and excited, I stood trembling for a mom- 
ent in silence. 

Then in doubt whether my senses had misled me or 
I had really heard some answering strain to my own 
music, I struck the next part of the story on the violin. 

Swift and clear came back each note ot the passage 
I had given, from the cottage that crowned the hill above 
me. 

Roused now to the deepest interest and thrilling with 
the excitement which this strange echo of my music had 
produced, wondering, questioning, hoping I knew not 
what, I pursued the story, line by line, pausing to listen 

283 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


to the echo of my notes or the answer to them. I knew not 
which, only to hear them quickly vibrating on that clear 
October air from the cottage on the hill. 

I was at once bewildered and beside myself with joy 
— bewildered for my senses had on various occasions ap- 
parently misled me. I had heard voices that I could not 
trace to any personality. I had seen faces, or thought I 
saw them, and when I looked again they had vanished. 

Were these answering strains of music a delusion of 
my senses? 

Or was Helena Ashton — and the thought intoxicated 
me with joy — on the island sending forth the notes that 
thrilled my inmost being? 

Seizing my violin, which I had momentarily discarded 
I gave one more passage from the life story and as the 
answering notes from the cottage struck my ear, I had 
a renewal of a strange experience that has come to me 
at critical moments a few times before. 

My right arm became benumbed and dead to all im- 
pulses of my own will. It utterly refused my own re- 
peated volition. Then a smarting sensation passed over 
its surface from shoulder to hand and a prickling in the 
nerves and muscles, and suddenly it began to move swiftly 
to and fro, the bow leaping across the strings as though 
some other mind directed it and as entirely beyond my 
own control. At the same instant my lips uttered loud 
and clear the announcement of a new ‘‘Song of Joy.’^ 

And now there swept from the violin strings a vehe- 
ment tide of melody which seemed to absorb all the 
mingled sounds of life about me. The instrument be- 
neath this tumult of overmastering gladness throbbed and 
palpitated like a thing of life. I and the instrument 
seemed caught up in the mad rush and torrent of the 
music and swept on and on in such a whirl of wild and 
wilful gladness as I had never known before till, just 
as suddenly as it began, it stopped and almost lifeless 
with exhaustion, I sank upon my seat to wait and wait 
in vain an answer. 

None came. But as I turned and gazed through the 
leafy arbor toward the cottage, the door opened and 

284 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Helena Ashton, or some divine vision of her, stood in 
the doorway. 

She was clad in the same simple garb as the year be- 
fore and on her head was a similar wreath of woven 
maple leaves with their beautiful blending of green and 
crimson and saffron and gold, and a single red rose upon 
her bosom. 

She stood leaning against the door case with a look 
of mingled amazement, joy and fright upon her pale face, 
her large, lustrous eyes shining bright and clear as she 
peered through the shrubbery that half disclosed and half 
concealed the rose arbor from her view. 

But only for a moment. Then she moved out, took a 
few rapid steps towards the arbor and paused, and hold- 
ing her hand above her eyes as if to screen them from 
the sun and give her clearer view, she looked intently to- 
ward the arbor which hid me from her view. Then she 
advanced again, step by step, but not in direct approach, 
screening her eyes occasionally, pausing and advancing as 
though at times uncertain of herself or what to do, and 
thus the drew near the arbor while I, too much overcome 
by the excitement to advance, had seized the lattice frame 
and stood erect and breathless to catch the first clear view 
of her sweet face. 

When first she saw me a low cry escaped her lips 
and with extended arms she started quickly to approach, 
but ere she reached the spot, she dropped her hands and 
shrank bank as though a maidenly modesty had restrained 
her. Then, after an instant’s pause, finding words, she 
said : 

“Herman Molson !” And in those words vibrated 
the surprise, wonder, joy and doubt with which her mind 
was filled. 

“Helena Ashton,” burst in glad joyous notes from my 
lips — and then we stood in silent wonder gazing into 
each other’s faces. 

“And you are still alive and well !” she said in pleased 
surprise and drawing nearer as she spoke. “They said 
the cruel river swallowed up my friend. I thought you 
dead and gone from us forever. Speak, speak, I want 
to hear your voice again.” 


285 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


“Yes, I am still alive and well as you can see — as 
much astonished as yourself at this most unexpected 
meeting.” 

“You seem to me,” she said, her wondering gaze still 
fixed upon me, “like one come back from death to life. 
I almost fear to take your hand — and yet I will to satisfy 
this poor puzzled brain of mine.” 

And extending her hand I grasped it and laid it on my 
heart. But she withdrew it quickly and seemed ill at ease, 
and stood toying with the flower in her hand, refused my 
offered seat and looked upon the river, the woods, the ar- 
bor but not at me. 

“Helena Ashton, what strange coincidence has brought 
you here today?” I asked. 

She answered with a still averted face : “The memory 
of a joyful day spent here a year ago. The memory of 
a friend whom I valued highly for his worth. 
We thought a cruel fate had torn him from us forever !” 

“And so you little thought to see him here — drawn 
to this very spot by a thousand sweet thoughts and memo- 
ries of a year ago,” I said. 

She did not answer my question but went on as though 
she had not heard. 

“He taught me how to make sweet sounds and har- 
monies upon the instrument and many lessons from his 
lips and life showed how — in time — I, too, might learn to 
make my life musical and sweet.” 

She said it simply, so naively and so unblushingly that 
my hopes sank near to despair. Surely she is grateful, 
I thought, for some real or fancied benefit, and her heart 
responds to that — ^but to no other chord. 

And so my hope mounting high on outstretched wing 
a moment before, now fell dead to the earth again. I was 
then certain that she did not love me or she had not dared 
so openly and to my face to praise me, and my counte- 
nance fell. 

She glanced toward me and seeing my dejected mien 
spoke again in lighter vein. 

“And what excuse have you. Sir Knight, for trespass- 
ing on this private domain? How dare you disturb my 
maiden meditation? You startled me out of my worship 

286 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

of a departed day and a departed friend? Come, sir, ex- 
plain.” 

She was now so near me that I could see, with all 
her studied calm and earnest repression, beneath all her 
seriousness or playfulness, many indications in the quiv- 
ering lip and downcast eye, of some strong excitement. 
She was deeply moved but from what cause I could not 
yet divine. 

I begged her to be seated, but she still refused and 
kept moving to and fro as though uncertain of herself. 

“My explanation is quite simple and my excuse is 
ready at hand,” I said. 

“This day one year ago threw charm and music over 
my whole life. Of all the pleasures I can recall, it 
has shone out clearly as the happiest memory of my life. 
All the events of those blissful hours we spent here one 
year ago have written themselves so deeply in my mind 
and heart and so frequently has my memory rehearsed 
every word and act, every emotion and thought of that 
glad day, that it shines out in the succeeding darkness and 
gloom of my poor life like a clear evening star in a heaven 
of blackness. Oh, Helena, dare I hope that you recall 
that day with equal pleasure? If I so believed, I would 
be the happiest man on earth. I .” 

She gently disengaged her hand which I had grasped 
and turned her face away and said: 

“But why come here?” 

“I do not know,” I replied, “I was led by some 
strange impulse to this spot. I felt sure the Island was 
deserted and thought I might indulge in solitude a harm- 
less reverie of the happiest hours in all my life. Full well 
I knew how much darker and sadder the path before me 
would prove if I revived fully these sweet experiences — ■ 
but I could not resist the temptation. I .” 

“But tell me of yourself, good friend,” she said. “And 
how you fare, and if the world is kind or cruel, and if 
you find the joy you merit. And are you happy?” 

“Happy! Happy! Ah, yes,,” I said bitterly, “I am 
happy — as the fainting traveller over burning sands who 
catches a vision of cooling waters and luscious fruits and 
sees the mirage fade away in obscurity. Happy, as the 

287 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


captive longing in vain for air and sunshine and liberty. 
Happy as the exile banished from home and loved ones 
forever 

I turned suddenly and caught her gaze fixed full on 
me and I wondered if the pity in her eyes was that of 
compassion or some deeper emotion. I continued : ^‘Is 
the world kind or cruel ?” you ask. “It matters not. Since 
first I woke from my dream of love and found its reve- 
lations in my heart one person makes the world to me. 
Her name makes constant music in my ear; her face 
shines ever before my eyes; her form and features ex- 
press all earthly loveliness; her character represents to 
me the truth and beauty and goodness of the world. What 
care I now how the world treats me ? A fig for the world 
and its cruel or kind treatment ! 

“Let me take her hand, hear her voice, share her 
love and heaven is mine — ^but without her, life means ex- 
ile from hope, soul hunger unappeased, a living death !” 

She turned her gaze from the woods to the river and 
remained silent. 

“But tell me of yourself,” I said impetuously. “Ru- 
mor tells me that shortly you will wed a prince and go 
afar from here. Is it true? And tell me, dare you, will 
you tell me, Helena, you are happy?” 

She stood, swaying a little from side to side, uneasily, 
and when she turned her face for the first time full upon 
me it was radiant as I had never seen it before. A light 
was shining from the depths of her deep, dark eyes and 
playing in happy radiance over her face — a light I did 
not then understand. 

“Yes,” she answered joyously, “yes, the rumor’s 
true. I soon shall wed a prince. And I am happy and 
supremely blest. My happiness lacks nothing in this hour 
to make it full and perfect except it be that my good 
friend I meet so unexpectedly seems sad and joyless. 

“You will give me your good wishes, Mr. Molson, I 
am sure,” and she extended her hand as if to receive my 
congratulations. 

My heart and hope were dead within me as I turned 
to leave the arbor and like some wounded bird seek 
shelter in the solitude and bear my pain alone ! 

288 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


But she detained me, crossing my path with full in- 
tent, and with her wide extended arms barring my pas- 
sage from the place. 

“You will not leave me thus,” she said. “I am your 
pupil, your grateful pupil. I shall never, never, forget 
you or your kindness. Surely you will bid a kind fare- 
well at least, and a ‘Heaven bless you’ before you go and 
a blessing on the man I love.” 

“You have slain my hope,” I cried. “You have shown 
me the gates of Paradise, then hurled me into the depths 
of darkness and despair! I cannot blame you that you 
do not love me, or that you love a prince. I will be just 
with you and him and wish you well. Though it is hard 
for human nature to extend joyful congratulations to a 
rival who has stolen from you the one in all the world 
you truly love, yet for your sake I will and do wish great 
joy to both of you. And now farewell — .” 

And still I sought to leave and still she barred the arbor 
door and led me back again. 

“Ah, but if you knew this prince of mine,” she said, 
“you surely would congratulate me on my choice — a man 
of royal soul and noble lineage and lofty purpose and one 
to whom my soul goes out .” 

“O spare me,” now I cried, “the full description of his 
worth. I question not his lineage or his high estate or 
that he loves you. I question not his worth to hold your 
hand. You praise him highly — as no doubt you should. 
It’s woman’s privilege to praise the man she soon shall 
wed. Love sees but little fault in those beloved. For him 
the gates of Paradise — for me the lonely march over 
burning sands alone.” 

“Ah, that is most generous in you, my good 
friend,” she cried cheerily, as if she verily enjoyed the 
pain suffered at that hour. “Yet you do faint justice 
to the man I love. For he as far exceeds all words of 
praise that I can give him and his love for me as far sur- 
passes all description as the sun outshines the faintest 
star. If you but knew his worth you would congratulate 
me a thousand times and know what cause I have for 

I must have been impatient in my manner and was 
289. 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


starting forth again to leave the place with some short 
words of farewell on my lips when she caught my hand 
in hers and urged me to a seat. 

“Not in anger, not in anger,” she cried. “You would 
not thus leave the pupil you have taught, whose life you 
have enriched with music and with truth ! I cannot bear 
in this our parting to have a good friend so grieve me! 
Surely you do wish me well and pray that I may profit by 
the words of wisdom you have eriven me and the lessons 
of your life ! 

“Do you remember, Mr. Molson, that in one of the 
lessons which your kind teacher taught you and which 
you in turn taught us, Mrs. Williams says, 'love asks only 
the happiness of the object loved. It forgets self and 
seeks only the welfare of the beloved.’ 

“If you truly love me — as you claim you do — will you 
not daily pray for my happiness and for him I love? 
Will you not rise to that noble self-forgetfulness and 
daily bless me and the man I love with your good 
thoughts ?” 

“Ah, me!” I cried, “I never, never till this hour saw 
that lesson thus applied !” 

“Most truly should it be,” she answered, “that is, if 
you truly love me as you say you do. But did you say 
it? No. You only left me to infer it as by logic from 
your speech, to draw by slow and intellectual process 
this cold conclusion from your words. Ah, me! what 
a poor, poor lover you would make ! Now were I a lover, 
seeking for a maiden’s hand and did I truly love her I 
would give no dubious speech, no formal logic in my 
words, but my heart should speak out loud and clear a 
language which she and all who heard should under- 
stand. I would tell it to the listening plants and trees, 
and breathe it in the perfume of the flowers, pour it forth 
through every flowing stream, utter it in the winds and 
put such melody and music, such pathos and power in my 
speech that I would melt the hardest heart to burninsr 
love!” 

“Now you are cruel and mock me with your words,” 
I cried. “Not all the eloquence of which you speak can 
make the iceberg warm or turn cold marble into flesh. 


290 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Did I possess all this eloquence of which you speak would 
it cause an empty vision of some distant Paradise to sat- 
isfy me when I am forever shut out? Or would it satisfy 
the exiled soul to say, ‘Heaven bless you’ to those enter- 
ing in while he himself remains in darkness and despair? 
You mock me in my misery.” 

“Not so, not so,” she cried. “I did but ask the teacher 
to apply in his own case the lesson taught his pupil. I only 
asked your daily prayer for me and him I love.” 

“Yes, I will try,” I answered, “hard as it seems — to 
forget my dream of love and happiness — and daily pray 
that you and he may be richly dowered with joy. But 
it is no easy task for one like myself to reach such heights. 
I would not play the hypocrite and I confess it rends my 
heart with anguish to be thus near you — too look upon 
your charms — and know you never can be mine. So I 
will go at once — Good-bye.” _ 

I was going forth again to escape her speech which 
pierced my soul and brought me an agony of pain words 
never can describe. 

“I cannot bear to see you suffer so, my good, kind 
friend,” she said and placed her hand in mild restraint 
upon my arm. “You have not even asked the name of 
him I love, nor where he lives, nor what his looks, nor of 
his speech or manner.” 

“It matters not,” I said, “his family name, and resi- 
dence are naught to me. They only remind me of one who 
has no home, no family and few friends and goes forth 
hopeless and alone in life.” 

“Now, Mr. Molson, if you truly love as you say you 
do, how can you be indifferent to the man I am to wed. 
Ah, if you but knew him and my great wealth of love and 
his great worth a very royal soul, a real kingly man .” 

I had risen up quickly. Hope was dead within me. 
Blinded and bewildered by her praise of him she loved 
I started again, to leave the arbor. A speechless agony 
robbed me of all utterance. I had seized my violin — 
my one true friend — and pushing rudely past her as she 
stood, with a hoarse farewell on my lips was stepping 
from the arbor when I heard a little cry of pain and the 
single word, “Herman !” 


291 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


And as I turned to see what caused her pain or fright, 
her two arms were about my neck, her cheek pressed 
close to mine, and as I caught the vision of her face, the 
crystal drops of grief hung trembling on the lashes of 
her wondrous eyes. 

“The dream! The dream!” I cried. “My dream 
comes true. Thank Heaven at last — I hold you in my 
arms of love — fast and safe, my love at last.” 

“Herman, dear Herman,” she whispered. “You did 
not ask me who my prince was — so I must tell you as I 
do now” and she kissed me on the forehead, as she said 
in low, sweet tones, “you are my prince, my king, the 
one man in all this world I truly love.” 

“The dream comes true,” I cried. “This day has 
brought me love and beauty and exceeding joy.” 

“It is even better than the day we came to celebrate,” 
she whispered shyly. 

“And could you not guess, Herman dear, all I meant 
but dare not say? Do you not know how hard it is at 
first for woman’s lips to say what I now say so boldly, I 
love you ?” 

“But, Oh, your cruel words,” I cried. “They pierced 
my very soul, killed all my hope and mocked me in my 
misery. How could you make me suffer so ?” 

“I know not why I wrung your heart with so much 
grief,” she answered — “unless my heart was hungry still 
to see some further test and proof of your great love for 
me, and hear some new confession from your lips. 

“When I first heard the music from your bow it set 
me trembling like an aspen leaf in summer wind. I seized 
my own and sent the quivering answer out. Then I 
listened with my soul intent to make sure I did not mis- 
take the fancies of my brain for joyous truth. And as 
I followed strain on strain the story of your life, hope 
grew within me. You were alive and here upon the is- 
land. 

“I cannot tell you what exceeding joy took hold of 
my poor heart when I first realized that fact. And when 
I heard your soul go out on that great burst of joyful 

recognition, I felt that I must seek you — must find you 

must even tell you all the wealth of my great love since 


292 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

first in Ashton Hall your words awoke me to a knowledge 
of myself. 

started out, so frightened, so agitated, so full of 
joy, with mingled hope and fear, I hardly know how I 
reached the arbor or your side. 

“When first I saw you I ran quickly on with full in- 
tent to tell you all my love, but something held me back, 
and in place of bringing joy I brought you agony and 
despair — but in all of this I suifered even more than you. 
I fought my love and held it back and tortured you, my 
prince, forgive me !” 

“Yes, a thousand times most gladly I will forgive you 
since for every passing pain you give me now ten thou- 
sand deeper joys,” I answered her. 

“And then I was restrained by the very greatness of 
my love,” she continued. “Here stood my teacher, and 
my friend whose words and life had been the mirror in 
which I saw my poor empty life — and seeing, learned 
to hate. Here stood one from whom I learned the nob- 
ler views of life and duty — a man who loved and loved 
most truly yet was nobly silent, bearing all his pain in 
secret, because much as he loved me he loved his honor 
more. So when I stood beside him and beheld a manly 
man — who feared not the great, pitied the unfortunate, 
faltered not at duty’s call, spoke no flattering lies and 
loved to his high sense of truth, the man who won the 
kingdom of my heart and reigned supreme, I could not 
force my lips to speak. Did I do wrong to call him 
prince !” 

“You shame me with such words of praise,” I cried. 
“Ah, stupid fool was I, I could not read the riddle of 
your speech. But now your face is as an open book in 
which I scan the sweetest story ever writ — ^but sweeter 
a thousand times when your own dear lips have told it.” 

“My life shall tell this story over again to you each 
day,” she said. “And every passing hour shall add some 
witchery to the tale. And at Ashton Hall .” 

“Never, Never!” I cried in an agony of fear and 
dread. 

Then there first burst upon me a full revelation of 

293 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

what I had done. For till that moment, intoxicated with 
my dream of love, my memory had been sleeping. Now 
at the mention of Ashton Hall came back all the bitter, 
bitter days of trial and suffering, my quarrel with the 
Banker and his burning words still rankling in my soul. 
And with this recollection, the teachings of my father and 
my repeated pledges to preserve my honor and my free- 
dom from the curse of gold, especially of gold wrung 
by oppression from the poor. 

“Oh, Heaven, forgive me!’’ I cried, “that should so 
soon and easily forget my father’s^ solemn counsel, or 
Mark Ashton’s scorn, or my own vows. 

“We are torn apart again — ^by my dead father’s arms 
and between us rises up a wall of gold, Mark Ashton’s 
gold. Never,” I cried, “much as I love you, dearer than 
life as you are to me, will I enter Ashton Hall or touch 
one dollar of his cursed gold!” 

“And is that all that separates us?” she meekly said. 
“If so, dear Herman, you little know of woman’s love and 
of what a woman’s love can do. Trifling things at the 
very best are wealth and palace halls and gold and gems 
— when hearts are in the balance. My love can sweep 
these baubles from our future path as the mountain tor- 
rent sweeps aside the driftwood into quiet eddies and 
rushes on unimpeded to the open sea! 

“Am I too rich? Then I’ll be poor and don an apron 
and a servants’ cap so I may serve attendance on a king. 
Love laughs at caste, steps over social lines, tramples on 
little trifles like a banker’s gold or coronets, 
and sings his song as sweetly in a rose arbor as in palace 
halls. Herman, freely, joyfully, I renounce my wealth 
since I can never be poor with all the wealth of your love. 
By your side I’ll make the humblest cottage so rich in 
beauty and so full of joy we’ll never know the change 
from wealth to poverty ! 

“Do you know, dear Herman, that charming little 
poem, 'My Ship,’ by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, who sings 
divinely in the praise of love? Let me recite it — for my 
speech is poor — while this in words and meaning is most 
wondrous sweet. 


294 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

'If all the ships I have at sea, 

Should come a-sailing home to me, 

Weighed down with gems and silks and gold — 

Ah, well ! the harbor could not hold. 

So many sails as there would be. 

If all my ships came in from sea. 

'If half my ships came home from sea. 

And brought their precious freight to me. 

Ah, well ! I would have wealth as great 
As any king who sits in state — 

So rich the treasures that would be. 

In half my .ships now out to sea. 

'If just one ship I have at sea. 

Should come a-sailing home to me. 

Ah, well ! the storm clouds then might frown. 

For if the others all went down. 

Still rich and proud, and glad I’d be, 

If that one ship came home to me. 

'If that one ship went down at sea, 

And all the others came to me. 

Weighed down with gems and wealth untold, 

With glory, honor, riches, gold. 

The poorest soul on earth I’d be. 

If that one ship came not to me. 

'O skies, be calm! O winds, blow free. 

Blow all my ships safe home to me! 

But if thou sendest some a- wrack. 

To never more come sailing back. 

Send any, all that skim the sea. 

But bring my love ship home to me. 

"Many an hour in my lonely chamber when I mourned 
you dead I thought that 'that one ship’ had gone down 
at sea and my heart and hope had gone down with it, 
and then I thought how joyfully T could say: 

'If that one ship came home to me. 

Still rich and proud, and glad I’d be.’ 


295 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

“Now since that one ship of love with its precious 
cargo has come into our harbor we shall never miss them 
if the others all go down at sea. Love will laugh away 
the little difficulties your fears have conjured up. All 
homes however humble are palaces if love dwells within. 
Has not Mrs. Williams taught us : Love makes the world 
go round, transforms all baser metals to gold, all charac- 
ters into the divine. There can be no heaven without love, 
and there can be no hell in any realm, dear Herman, save 
in a loveless life.^' 

During all these words of love and beauty I sat as one 
entranced, in a speechless maze of happiness and joy, and 
drinking in the wondrous beauty of her face now glow- 
ing with the light of fond affection and listening to the 
music of her voice. It seemed to me that Paradise had 
opened wide its gates and my soul entered. 

“Come to the cottage, Herman,” she said, “Pll spread 
a royal feast and you shall have the place of honor. You 
shall tell me a thousand times — O, what a poor lover you 
are in speech, Herman, — all that is in your heart this 
hour.” 

And so we walked the winding path again and entered 
the room where a year before so much of joy and glad- 
ness had been crowded into the merry, circling hours. 

Of how she donned her apron, and how she spread 
the snowy napery again, and how she brought forth deli- 
cate and delicious viands from the hamper, and how she 
looked, and spoke by words and glance and gesture and 
bewitching grace all the sweet, overmastering passion of 
her heart, I could not now speak. 

I tasted of the food, but mostly sat as one entranced, 
and gazed and listened as one might sit abashed at some 
heavenly banquet, hearing something all too sweet and 
wonderful to be believed and wondering still if it were 
real and true. 

The hours sped away. The full moon had risen. 
Nature was hushed to evening’s calm and as we launched 
our little craft upon the river, ten thousand reflections 
of the moonbeams danced on the wavelets of the flowing 
tide. The moon cast a silvery pathway of radiance across 
the river as we glided peacefully down the stream. 

296 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I ceased rowing and allowed the boat to drift with 
the current and we sat part of the way in silence, drink- 
ing in the beauty of the scene, living over again the glad 
hours we had just passed through and finding no words 
to fit the thoughts and emotions of the hour. 

“Herman,” she said, assuming a listening attitude, as 
we neared the town, “listen ! Do you not hear the sound 
of voices of great melody, as though coming from a 
great distance, over the sea, voices of song and gladness, 
far away, but songs of wondrous sweetness?” 

“Yes, my love,” I said, “I hear them. They are 
angel songs, coming over the once stormy billows. We 
have been tossed about on the angry crest of these fierce 
waves, as I saw in my dream, back and forth, passing 
and repassing each other, in the darkness. Now the 
storm has passed. We are nearing the harbor and the 
angels of peace and hope are singing of joyful days to 
come.” 

“And do you not hear other songs, as well?” she 
asked. 

“Yes,” I replied, “but the other songs are all within 
my own soul. It would seem as if ten thousand song 
birds had just waked up and were singing in my heart.” 


297 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


HAPPENINGS AT ASHTON HALL. 

John Gilbert Hume. 

As to what occurred at Ashton Hall immediately 
after the meeting of Mr. Molson and Miss Ashton on 
Chestnut Island, described in the preceding chapter taken 
from Mr. Molson’s Diary, I have, fortunately, a circum- 
stantial account in a letter from Miss Lucille to Mrs. 
Williams which Mrs. Williams gave me permission to 
use after obtaining the writer's consent. 

As it gives a view of matters within Ashton Hall and 
much fuller and more life-like than any outsider could 
have written, I offer no apology for its use here.^ Since 
it chiefly concerns the heiress and her proffered giving 
up of her position and wealth, I have chosen to give 
it a separate heading and shall call it 

‘THE RENUNCIATION." 

My Loving Friend: 

As events of great importance to us all are happen- 
ing in Ashton Hall and elsewhere, and I cannot get away 
for one of our delightful visits, much as my heart 
prompts thereto, I must write you some account of wha^ 
will be, I know, most delightful news. 

To begin with Herman Molson, let me say your 
prophecy again proves correct. Oh, joy, joy indescrib- 
able was mine, when Mr. Jaffery came last week and 
gave us positive proof that he is alive and well, and 

strange to say, was shortly to appear in W e. He 

has discarded his old name, and is touring the country 
with the Mendelssohn Quartette and Orchestra as Signor 
Guiseppi. Last week they gave two concerts in Orion 
Hall and I was there. He has changed, and yet is much 
the same, but in his music there is the same weird power 
of touching the heart and setting all the chords of one's 
inner nature into that pathetic vibration we all know and 
loved so well when he was with us. 

298 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


My father and I went and you may be sure we were 
among his most interested hearers. Oh, how I wished 
to go to him and confess the wrong I had done him, the 
injury he had received at our hands and beg forgiveness, 
but my father and Mr. Jaffery both said, “Not yet. All 
in good time you shall see him and make peace with him. 
Only wait.” 

Helena did not attend the concerts and I was bidden 
to hold my peace about Mr. Molson until events were 
ripe for further action. She seems to have lost interest 
in the public concerts and in her own music, except the 
violin, the practice on which she has kept up faithfully 
and on which she is now a delightful performer. On the 
day following the first concert she was up earlier than 
usual and surprised us all by announcing she would spend 
the day upon the Island in reading and practice, and so a 
boatman was engaged to carry her lunch and convey her 
to the Island. She bade him to come for her again at 
five o’clock. 

At six the boatman returned with a strange story. 
He had gone back expecting to find Miss Ashton ready 
for her return trip, but had been surprised to find another 
boat moored to the landing and to hear a strange sort of 
musical dialogue going on between the rose arbor and 
the cottage. He told the story to father and myself, 
and yet I don’t know that I can give you Mr. Flannery’s 
exact words or do justice to his pronunciation, but it 
resembled this : 

“When I got forninst the Island, I heard a low, soft 
strain of fiddle music, like as if a bird was calling to its 
mate, only it was louder and more like the human voice, 
but full of tender feeling and pity. Whist, I says to 
myself. I’ll investigate. So I rowed my boat behind the 
little headland, near the landing, and could look through 
the trees and see and hear all that occurred. 

“Presently I heard another bit of music, just the 
same, from the cottage on the hill, the same identical 
words and sentiments, though it was all music, you 
understand, but the music was so full of meaning that I 
call it words. Then another bit of music from the 
arbor, but this time it was sad and low and had so many 

299 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


sobs and breaks in it that my heart came into my throat, 
and I felt as if all my friends had deserted me forever. 
Then the same sentiments was sent back down from the 
cottage. Then the next time it was different, so ilivat- 
ing that I stood up to hear it and I felt that I could face 
my inimies and conquer them, and feared neither man 
nor divil. 

“And so the music wint — ^back and forth — ^high and 
low — sad and glad, but mostly sad, until suddenly I 
heart a great burst of music like a thousand hallelujahs 
all at wonst, like as though all the birds were singing in 
chorus, then all at wonst it stopped. I moved my boat 
a little and then I could see into the rose arbor and 
there stood a tall gintleman, grasping his fiddle in one, 
hand and peerin’ through the lattice of the arbor up to 
the cottage. 

“Aha, my foine gintleman intruder. Til keep my eye 
on you, says I, some furriner, I thought, but I couldn’t 
tell for the life of me how he had learned our English 
music so well and could speak it so perfectly. 

“Prisintly I saw the cottage door open and Miss 
Ashton appeared, very pale and excited, her eyes full of 
fright and fear, I thought, and then she started down 
the hill, her long tresses flying in the wind and putting 
her hands over her eyes, like this, as though frightened, 
yet not afraid, running and pausing and then walking 
round and round, looking toward the cottage as though 
she didn’t know whether it was a friend or inimy she 
might meet. I rowed a little closer, not liking to trust 
these furriners too much, especially when they look like 
gintlemen. 

“I saw them when they met, and it was a strange 
meeting. As soon as she saw him her face was all aglow 
and she run to meet him — she must have thought she 
recognized him at first — but stopped and half turned 
back, then she gave her hand to him, timid like and shy, 
and he seemed more afraid than she. He offered her a 
seat, but she stood and talked to him and looked out at 
the river and up at the tree tops and around the Island 
and he talked so differently at different times — now fast. 


300 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


now slow, then high, and low, and sometimes so hoarse 
and low, I thought he had lost his voice intirely. 

“Whatever t’was they talked about she kept her tem- 
per much better than he did. Whether she ordered him 
oif the Island, I don’t know, or whether she only remon- 
strated, civil-like with him, a furriner breaking the I3.W, 
I don’t know, but he, poor wretch, seemed to feel his 
situation most keenly. 

“Three or four times she got him started oif the 
arbor, and then, woman-like, she kept him back, probably 
giving him a word of warning about the future. But he 
lost his temper intirely several times and acted like a 
crazy man — walking up and down the arbor excited-like 
and running his hands through his hair and talking in 
such hoarse tones. I did not hear him swear, but I think 
mostly likely he did. Them furriners use bad language, 
so they do. 

“Why didn’t I call out, or make myself known? 
Because, I am mortal sure they wished to have the quar- 
rel out themselves. They were both so interested, too, 
I don’t believe they would have heard me had I cried 
Murder! Whatever ’twas they talked about I’m sure 
they were so engaged they would not have heard an 
earthquake or a peal of thunder. I thought, then. I’d 
come down and report to you, Mr. Ashton, and if you 
think best I’ll get a policeman or two and go back and 
take him prisoner.” 

My father only smiled and said we’d wait and see. 

About eight o’clock Helena came in the walked directly 
to her room, and I, all curiosity and excitement, fol- 
lowed, but she had locked the door. After a few plead- 
ings she opened the door and let me in but kept her face 
turned from me. When I attempted to see her face, 
she turned the light oif and caught me in her arms and 
kissed me. Then I know she had seem him, but I kept 
the knowledge to myself and said, “How late you are! 
And what queer news is this we hear about a stranger on 
Chestnut Island?” 

“Lucille, my dear Lucille, I don’t know how to tell 
you of to-day. Herman lives, and I”ve seen him. I’ve 


301 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


given him all my heart. I am so happy words mock me 
when I try to tell.” 

What could I do but press her to my heart and share 
her joy and wish her ten thousandfold her present bliss. 
I turned on the light again and then I read the story in 
her face. 

But none of us are perfect, are we, Auntie Williams? 
Even in my exciting happiness over Herman’s return 
and Helena’s gladness, that strain of mischief in my 
nature showed itself and there stole into my mind the 
thought of annoying and teasing my sweet sister for a 
time, that I might gladden her heart again at last. 

So I feigned a sadness that I did not feel, and sighed, 
and made my face belie my heart and cried : “Alas ! Alas ! 
I thought that Herman loved me — I thought he returned 
my affections !” 

Helena sprang from her seat, her face wore a pained 
and sorrowful aspect, and such a look of grief came to 
her large dark eyes as she kissed me and said, “And do 
you, too, love Herman?” 

“Yes, I love him !” I cried. “I love the ground he 
walks upon. I love him with such true and deep affec- 
tion that it would take my life to be separated from him 
again. Did you not know my love for Herman? I’m 
sure he loves me.’’ 

“Most surely I did not, but Herman loves no one 
but me. I’m sure he loves no one but me,” she said. 
Yet with it all I saw from her face that she was greatly 
disturbed with the thought of my suffering and insidious 
doubt of Herman’s love. 

Then I withdrew my frowns and let the sun shine 
forth in my face and my voice ring out in happy laugh- 
ter, and I embraced her again and again and drove all 
sadness away until no happier sisters ever spent the 
night together than Helena and myself. 

It was long, long past midnight when she had finished 
telling me the story of their chance meeting, and of the 
wonderful interview that followed. When she had fin- 
ished she put her arms around me as in the old days of 
our trouble and bereavement and sobbed rather than 
spoke the words: “He cannot come to me — so I shall 


302 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

go to him and to-morrow I will tell Papa Ashton mv de- 
cision.” 

I begged her to explain and then she said: “You 
know, my dear, what Herman thinks of Papa Ashton. 
You know how he detests avarice, covetousness and dis- 
honesty and all of these, Alas ! Alas ! he thinks he finds 
them all in your father and my dearest friend. Then he 
inherits from his father a fear of unearned gold — and 
smarts still under the taunts your father uttered in this 
Hall. He never will touch a dollar of Mark Ashton’s 
money nor will he enter Ashton Hall, and so, as poor as 
I was when I came to you, as poor will I go forth again. 
•Lucille, my constant and truest friend, be with me and 
help me through tomorrrow. It will cost me much to 
tell my benefactor that I must leave him — and you — 
and renounce his offered wealth — and choose one whom 
he does not yet admire or love. Oh, if Heaven would 
only make friends of these two men my earthly cup of 
joy would then be full!” 

And then it was my turn to comfort her and so I 
said : 

“How strangely things have turned about within 
the last few months! A few months since we mourned 
both men as dead. Now happily we know they are alive 
and well. May we not trust good angels to smoothe 
away whatever misunderstandings still exist. Let me 
turn prophetess, Helena dear, and declare I see bright 
omens in your sky. I know two better, truer men, of 
nobler mind and mold walk not the earth tonight, and I 
prophesy that in another month, two men more loving and 
affectionate with each other — with more of true appre- 
ciation for each other’s worth — will not be found on 
earth.” 

“I bless you for those words of hope” — she meekly 
said. — “I pray kind Heaven to grant me this one boon 
and I will dedicate my life to noble deeds.” 

Next morning I was up with the lark and told my 
father all the joyful news before Helena awoke. 

He listened as one entranced, bewildered, over- 
whelmed with joy too deep and full to find words for 
expression. And as step by step I narrated the meeting 


303 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of the lovers, the course of their conversation, the al- 
ternate hope and despair of Herman, the womanly de- 
ception which Helena practised before she contessea ner 
love, and then Helena’s wish to give back all her wealth 
and prospects for her lover’s empty hand, he rose and 
paced the floor his bosom swelling with such a tide of 
deep emotion as I had never yet seen upon him — ^mo- 
tioning with his hand for silence — ^till he could command 
his voice. 

“My dear Lucille,” he said at last — “no romance of 
the stage surpasses in thrilling effects, your simple story. 
The time, the place, the circumstances, the speech and 
the action, I doubt not — were full of deep dramatic 
power. Would that some wizard word weaver could 
put the facts in story. Would that some great actor 
who can read and then portray the deep emotions of the 
heart, could put upon the stage a scene like that on 
Chestnut Island yesterday! Ah, I would travel round 
the world to see it. Think of it — our Herman and 
Helena, the chief actors in the scene. 

“Thank Heaven, they stood the fiery test and out of 
the crucible come forth as gold purified.” He ceased 
speaking. I looked up at his face. It shone as I can 
only imagine would shine the face of an angel. Then 
suddenly he left the room. 

Helena was silent at the breakfast table. Indeed the 
conversation lagged and when we rose she took my 
father’s arm and mine and led us to the library and 
seating us in two adjoining chairs sat down upon a stool 
and took a hand of each, and tried to speak, but failed 
at first until my father laid his hand upon her head and 
said “My child, speak out, don’t be afraid. You surely 
know our love. Speak fully, frankly all that is in your 
mind and heart.” 

“How can I speak?” she said. “You have been to me 
more than father — my benefactor and the friend of my 
early days. What I must say will sever loving hearts 
and rob me of a father, you of a child. It is like the pain 
of death to tell you, I must go from you — and from Ash- 
ton Hall — and turn my back on all your offered kindness 
and good will. 


304 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


‘‘I have so much to tell — so much that is hard to 
tell — and my poor words will not express my meaning. 
Your love for me must give me strength and courage. 

“Most of all I dread is this : you may think me un- 
mindful of your love and goodness all these years. And 
of your most generous purpose to bestow on me your 
wealth and make me great in all the world calls great. I 
prize it all — ^but most of all the love that prompted it 
and your kind patience with me and with all my faults. 

“But now, I must tell my decision. I cannot take 
the wealth you offer me. I cannot remain in Ashton 
Hall, nor, can I try to carry out your great designs for 
me. 

“I am so changed, so different from what I once was, 
I hardly know myself. It would seem as if before this 
year I had been dreaming idle dreams and now IVe just 
waked up and learned to know myself and my sorround- 
ings, and to find what things are true and real and what 
things are false and fleeting. I seem like one re-born — 
the old Helena died a year ago and since that hour new 
thoughts, new aims, new hopes, new ideals have come 
to me and I am changed — so changed. My nobler self 
has waked up to life. 

“You ask me what has changed me. I will tell. It 
was my coming into touch with one, true, simple life — 
my music teacher — your poor clerk — with whom I am 
most pained to say you were not pleased and he, in turn, 
thinks ill of you. This makes the pain of my going 
forth still harder for me — that I should choose one 
whom you cannot choose, love one whom you cannot 
love, yet I do love him with a love so full and true that 
I can leave this Hall without one real regret, save for 
the loving hearts I leave behind. 

I ask that all you once intended me to have, you give 
to this dear girl, my sister, and that I may go forth as 
poor and penniless as I came to Ashton Hall — ^yet I shall 
be the richest, happiest woman on the earth.” 

Then father rose and taking her hand in his, gently 
said, “Be comforted, dear child, it shall be as you wish. 
You have made your choice. It is well.” 

And so Helena goes to Herman. May they be 
happy. Lucille Ashton. 


305 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE PEACEMAKER. 

From Herman Molson’s Diary. 

On the afternoon of the day following my visit to 
Chestnut Island, I was surprised to receive from the 
message boy of the Hotel Traymore, a note from Miss 
Lucille Ashton, begging a brief interview with me in one 
of the ladies parlors. The envelope was addressed to 
Signor Guiseppi but the note began, “My dear Mr. 
Molson” and was courteously and kindly worded and 
intimated that matters of grave importance to me and 
others depended on this meeting. 

I found her — after the most sorrowful and eventful 
months that had rolled by since last we met — the same, 
gentle, loving and good-humored girl I had known be- 
fore. Had I had cause or purpose of resentment in my 
heart toward her, it surely would have melted in the glow 
of her kindness and her smiles. But whatever wrong I 
had suffered at the hands of Mark Ashton, I never had 
anything but justice and kindness from Lucille. 

As I came into the room where she sat, the memory 
of the dark days that had come to her, to me and to 
Ashton Hall seemed to pass like a cloud over her face, but 
the sun shone instantly as she took my hand and her face 
and eyes more than supplemented the kindness of her 
words as she said: 

“Surely, I have not done you wrong in assuming you 
would drop disguises with one who has ever sought to 
be your true friend, Mr. Molson?” 

I thanked her and after we were seated she handed 
me at once a note from the master of Ashton Hall. It 
read as follows: 

Dear Mr. Molson : 

May I beg of you before you leave the city to 
give me an opportunity of explaining to you and a few 
interested friends some things in my past life which may 
make my conduct less detestable in your sight. 

306 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


Not that I would justify myself — but I am sure 
your sense of right will not refuse me this privilege of mi- 
tigating, if I cannot entirely remove, the severe condem- 
nation you and others — I will not say unjustly — ^passed 
upon my conduct. 

These lines are from one who has passed life’s meri- 
dian, the shadows of whose journey are rapidly falling 
toward the east, and from one who has arisen from the 
darkness of the tomb to take, perhaps, a nobler and a 
truer view of life! Will you come again to Ashton Hall 
and hear my explanations? 

MARK ASHTON. 

As I read the letter a wonderful emotion came over 
me. Do letters bear with them, I often ask myself, 
in their atmosphere, the thought and feeling of the 
writer? It seemed as though while reading that letter 
the depths of my being were stirred. A feeling of in- 
finite tenderness, divine compassion, came over me. In 
that instant all resentment, all harsh judgment, all bit- 
terness were swallowed up in this sense of pitying love 
for men, and I could not have cherished a harsh thought 
toward the Banker at that hour to save my own life. 

Lucille, who was by this time all smiles and radiance, 
saw my emotion but chose to ignore it. Moving her seat 
near to mine, she said : 

‘T have come as peace-maker. Surely it is a heavenly 
mission. Do you wish me success?” 

‘Tt would be cruelty itself,” I replied, “if I did not 
wish success to so holy a mission and if I refused my aid 
to so noble a missionary. Since reading that note my 
heart is very pitiful toward all, and I remember all too 
well, how much I, too, need forgiveness.” 

“Now you have made me very happy by your 
words,” she said. “And soon it will be the privilege of 
others to add much to your joys.” 

And so it was settled that on the following evening 
I was again to revisit Ashton Hall and meet the Banker. 


307 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE DAY OF REVELATION. 

Herman Molson’s Diary. 

W e, Oct. 1 8 . 

As arranged with Miss Lucille, I spent this evening 
at Ashton Hall, and was delightfully surprised to find 
present most of my friends whose names have figured 
in these Diary pages, as well as all the members of the 
Ashton household. I was especially pleased to find the 
Williams family and Mrs. Perkins and her children there, 
and to realize the harmony of thought and sentiment 
that, like a subtle sense of perfume, pervaded the place. 

The Banker himself met me at the door and taking my 
arm escorted me to the drawing room. The members 
of the Williams family and the widow Perkins with her 
beautiful children made the group very congenial, while 
the young ladies of Ashton Hall, dispensing with formal 
greetings, each in simple earnest words told me how 
pleasant it was to see me within their home again. 

The company was indeed a memorable one. There 
sat Mrs. Williams, my foster mother, my one true and 
tried friend, my spiritual teacher and guide, to whom I 
owed more than to all others combined. She had a look 
of serene happiness and joyful anticipation on her face. 
Beside her, cheerful, confident and happy, sat that royal- 
souled man, her husband and life-long lover. At her 
feet on footstools at either side sat Lucille and Helena. 
At the opposite end of the drawing room another group, 
Mark Ashton being the central figure, while near him 
sat Laura and Maude Williams, while Herbert and the 
Perkins family occupied the centre of the room. 

The Banker was strikingly like the Mark Ashton I 
had known — yet different noticeably both in appearance 
and manner. He was pale in face and slightly thinner 
in form and more subdued in manner, vet the impres- 
sion of hidden depths of power and feeling within him 

308 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


was never stronger I think upon any observer’s mind than 
on that evening. 

Miss Lucille was radiant with the love light of her 
affections and forcibly brought back to memory the days 
of unexplained happiness she passed through just be- 
fore the dire tragedy. During the recital of her father’s 
strange story she sat with eyes riveted upon his face 
reflecting as the narrative proceeded the liveliest inter- 
est sympathy and affection. 

On Miss Ashton’s face there was during the Banker’s 
recital a look of deepest curiosity changing to awe and 
wonder, kindling at times into devout admiration at par- 
ticular passages in the story. 

I sat where I could view both groups, a link between 
the two home circles, and watched the play of emotion 
upon the Banker’s face and on the faces of his auditors 
as he proceeded with his wonderful story. It would be 
impossible to express in cold statements of mine, the 
easy grace, charming diction and dramatic power of 
Mark Ashton, or to portray the tides of emotion that 
at times swept over him and thrilled every one who 
heard his words. 

Once and once only did his feelings fully overcome 
him: It was when he alluded to his wife who was the 
good angel of his life and must have been a woman of 
great beauty and purity of character — her name and 
memory having been worshipped in the temple of his 
heart for nearly a score of years. 

Here his voice gave way and after a moment or two 
of silence he asked me to render on my violin, “Home, 
Sweet Home,” with my own variations. 

After I had done so, there stole over all of us a still- 
ness and peace that hushed all our minds and hearts into 
serenity and for a time we sat in a silence more eloquent 
even than the Banker’s words, a silence that was holy. 

And sitting thus, with varying thought and emotions, 
we who had played our little part in the drama of the 
last eventful year, listened to the story of a life unique 
in character and purpose and disclosing principles and 
aims quite out of the ordinary experiences of men. 

There was no prologue or introduction of any kind. 


309 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

Every one knew the peculiar object of the gathering. 
Every one expected to learn something explanatory of 
the Banker’s life and character. So, without exordium 
of any kind, Mark Ashton gave his statement. 


MARK ASHTON’S STORY. 

“Our family history can be traced back from the 
rugged hills of Maine, where I and my three brothers 
were reared, through successive generations to Plymouth 
Rock, to the times of the Mayflower and to the heart 
and brain of the Puritans : but it is my own life story I 
will tell, a story known in part to my tried and true 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, yet only in part even to 
them, and almost a sealed volume to my younger friends 
of today. 

“With my darling daughter Lucille here — whose love 
and confidence and comradship have been my mainstay 
and without whose support I could neveT have accom- 
plished the task I set my hand to — I have had no secrets. 
She is the only one in all the world who has read my heart 
fully, entered into my plans and purposes with enthusi- 
asm and before whom I was not compelled to act a part. 
To the rest of the world I have been, for the last five 
years particularly, an actor, speaking at times sentiments 
which my soul abhorred, sentiments vile and abominable 
to some of you, puzzling my daily associates and the pub- 
lic with eccentricities and apparently contradictory con- 
duct, and hiding what little of grace and charity my soul 
may have acquired zealously from the world. 

“My eldest brother, Luke, after my father’s death, be- 
came at twenty-one a man of wealth. He had partially 
completed his college education and was summoned home 
to find himself fatherless and rich by inheritance. The 
bulk of the property — my mother having passed away 
five years before — went to him and he was left executor 
of the estate, then amounting to over one hundred and 
sixty thousand dollars, with instructions to pay over our 
respective apportionments as we reached our majority. 
Within the next four years he had spent his entire for- 


310 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


tune and trenched upon the smaller allowances of the 
younger brothers. He plunged headlong into dissipa- 
tion, abandoned his college course and in a few years 
became a victim of strong drink, ending his days in an 
asylum. 

‘'My brother, Samuel, undeterred by Luke’s fate, took 
his smaller portion and entered upon a fast life in Bos- 
ton. He was killed in a gambling den in that city a few 
years after Luke’s death. 

“John from early life showed qualities quite distinct 
from Luke and Samuel. He was a born miser. From 
childhood his selfish propensities seemed to govern 
him in a peculiar degree and when he, too, received his 
fortune, he gravitated to our own country town and 
lived — if such a life can be called living — ^till a few years 
ago solely for the irrational purpose of acquiring money. 
He did not seem to care for its use — it was its possession 
— the insatiable greed of possession, that, like a deadly 
cancer in the system, consumed his better instincts and 
emotions and poisoned all the currents of his being. 

“Let me mark for you the stages of his tragic descent 
into the hell of the miser — the inferno into which souls 
gravitate upon whom the curse of gold in this form has 
fallen. 

“At thirty-five John was possessed of about one hund- 
red thousand dollars — he married early and, I think, for 
gold — and had a wife and two children. While always par- 
simonious and mean in his family expenditure, up to this 
time his family had been able to present a decent ap- 
pearance at home, in the social circle and they went to 
church on Sunday in a carriage. 

“Ten years pass. John’s fortune has more than 
doubled, but with it — Oh, Cursed Lust of Gold ! — his love 
of money, his greed for gain, his penuriousness and nig- 
gardliness to his family have increased — a hundred fold. 
John is now no longer able to furnish a carriage for his 
family to ride in — nor suitable clothing — nor scarcely a 
sufficiency of food for his larder. While his wealth is 
growing in leaps and bounds, his covetousness has out- 
stripped his wealth and so mean and shabby and miserly 
is his treatment of wife and children that the neighbors 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


take pity on them and help them secretly to money and 
clothing. This killed his wife — she died as many a 
woman dies — for want of love and kindness. Oh, if the 
tombstones told truth — in place of monstrous false- 
hoods — ^many an epitaph would read: “Died from Soul 
Starvation;” “Killed by Cruelty;” “Murdered by 
Neglect.” 

“The two children left him. He sold his home, con- 
verted it into money and set his gold dollars to chasing 
other gold dollars into his net. 

“Look at him at fifty-five — worth nearly half a million 
— yet too poor to maintain a house or home. He goes into 
a cheap tenement and boards himself. He is now as 
shabby and dirty as a beggar. All sense of decency as to 
his appearance and life has left him. His scruples as 
to right and wrong are utterly abandoned. Yet he is a 
developed product of our civilization, the species miser, 
genus money-grabber, and will take advantage of a poor 
neighbor, turn the widow and orphan into the street and 
reaps his largest harvest from poor farmers who in 
spring time are in need of grain and food, and must 
secure the same to insure a harvest for the season. I 
have learned of his charging as high as five per cent per 
month and exacting it with merciless rigor. 

“He was taken sick. A day before he died the doctor 
called on him and he cried out in agony, “What’ll be 
your charge for that medicine?” and when he learned it 
was some trifling amount he screamed in real soul an- 
guish — so the poor neighbor woman who came in out of 
charity to attend him, informed me, — “Oh, you 
wretched extortioners, you would ruin a man with your 
charges.” Next day on a miserable pallet, with insuf- 
ficient clothing, he died clutching in either hand a bag 
of gold. 

“Do you wonder then these lessons were burned upon 
my soul in letters of fire by my family’s history? 

“When I received my small portion of the old estate, 
at twenty-one, I took a solemn vow that I would stand 
for manhood and for true living — and uphold the family 
honor in my life. 

“I prospered — it is a family trait we have of making 
312 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


wealth — and Heaven was kind to me. I know not why, 
unless that from my earlier years I sensed the fact that 
unseen helpers attend our steps, and felt a strong attrac- 
tion to the thought that in some way — I knew not how — 
they loved to keep a watch over human lives and minister 
to men. 

“I was not formally religious, indeed I could not be, 
in the sense of accepting the popular religious faith. I 
never could subscribe to the long and complicated state- 
ments of belief in which theology abounds. I was 
puzzled and perplexed and in constant doubt whenever I 
met or heard teachings of the miraculous and superna- 
tural, and any supposed event which I heard in sermon 
or in conversation out of nature’s order, set my mind 
questioning its reality. But of two things I never 
doubted and one was the beauty and sublimity of the life 
and teachings of Jesus, and the other was the reality of 
a spirit realm. I knew not whence these deep convic- 
tions came to me — it was not through logic or testimony 
or traditional belief — it was a growing sense of reality 
within my soul. And so, while I was not a man of for- 
mal prayer and never adopted any forms of public or 
private worship, in my soul I think I had as true and 
deep a sense of spiritual things as most of those who 
made profession of their faith. 

“And I was often accustomed to lift my soul above 
the world in silent aspirations after help and wisdom, 
and truth and courage in my daily tasks, and to fer- 
vently desire that good might come to all and truth 
might triumph over error. 

“Perhaps — I know not — it was because I ever recog- 
nized this Supreme Reality and felt my need and some- 
times in the quiet of my heart possessed a faith that I 
should not be overcome and make a shipwreck of my 
life as my brothers had done — that Heaven was kind to 
me and gave me the richest boon that can come into the 
life of man between the cradle and the grave — the love 
of a pure good woman. 

“Of her I dare not trust myself to speak even now 
after the violets have bloomed upon her grave for well 
nigh twenty years.” 


313 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

He paused and there was silence — deep and solemn 
in the room and a profound hush and awe in all our 
hearts — and then resumed. 

‘‘Heaven blessed our union with two children, son 
and daughter, and then took my wife away. 

“I was growing rich. My hands .had the Midas touch 
to turn all things to gold and as I looked upon my two 
sweet babes and felt that I must be their sole guide and 
protector — now that she was gone — and as I saw my 
fortune growing day by day and knew that death at any 
time might throw the weight of its great temptation into 
their young lives and ruin them as many others had 
been ruined with the curse of unearned wealth, a great 
fear and trembling took possession of my heart. 

What should I do? What was best to do for them? 
How shield them from the fateful curse of inherited 
wealth? Perhaps I had grown morbid on the theme — 
maybe the tragedies I witnessed in my brother’s lives had 
made my soul preternaturally acute to the dangers of 
inherited money. 

“I know not — only this I know that night after night 
in my loneliness and gloom as I thought of my two chil- 
dren and knew that only the slender thread of my life 
stood between them and the dangers which had de- 
stroyed my brothers, there came over me a great fear. I 
looked ahead and saw them, inexperienced, unshielded, 
friendless — thrown under the power of a great tempta- 
tion through great wealth. The thought was full of 
pain and dread. I saw them surrounded by parasites 
and deceivers whom wealth attracts — tempted to mis- 
judge themselves and others through the glamor which 
wealth throws round us and, perhaps, victims of the cor- 
rupting power of wealth — victims of the very success 
that had attended me. 

“How could I shield them? How make sure of that 
simplicity, sincerity, manliness and womanliness, often 
generated through humble service and toil of the poor, 
and often, alas! absent in the children of the rich and 
pampered. 

“There was one way — only one — it seemed to me. I 
must rob my children of their own inheritance, throw 


314 


The Mystery of Ashton Half 


them on their own resources and cast them adrift upon 
the struggling waters of life till in nature’s own way 
they acquired strength and courage and such sense of 
truth and right as might justify me in placing great 
wealth in their hands. 

“I shuddered at the thought and for a time could 
not rise to the heroism of the sacrifice. In my lonliness 
and gloom I somehow felt in their presence a consolation 
for that irreparable loss which Heaven had inflicted on 
me in the death of my wife. But at last I made the 
firm resolve .” 

(He had turned his face from me and seemed to be 
in sore distress). 

“I made the firm resolve and sent him from me and 
robbed my only son of name, and home and father — I 
sent him to a country home when three years old .” 

* * * Hs * 

They tell me that here I had risen from my seat and 
with blanched face and uplifted hands was moving 
slowly toward him as he spoke. I do not know. Such 
movement must have been unconscious. 

He resumed. ‘‘And for nearly twenty years I bore 
the slow martydom of his absence and left him to fight 
alone .” 

“His name? His name?” I shouted in my agony 
of intense excitement. 

“His name was Herman Molson Ashton” — he said. 

Sf: * * 5(t 5|« 

I don’t know how I reached him — whether he came 
to me or I to him — ^but I was in his arms and sobbing 
upon his breast. 

“My Father — My Father — after all these years!” 

“My son, My son forgive me.” 

“Forgive you!” I cried, “rather pardon me, my 
father, all my hard and unjust thoughts, my bold words. 

I did not understand — I could not know — forgive — for- 
give !” 

“I did you greater wrong. I hold you guiltless for 
these words. I caused them by own deception.” he 


315 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 

answered. We stood locked in close embrace for some 
moments when I heard a voice besides me, and turning 
saw Lucille who, with face radiant with joy, cried out: 

‘Tor years my hungry heart has longed for your em- 
brace, my long-lost brother — for years — long painful 
years! And now at last, I can say, Welcome, Welcome 
Home!’^ 

I know not how I lived through that hour— but as I 
turned Helena was on her knees before Mark Ashton s 
chair and each was asking pardon for the past and look- 
ing through tear-dimmed eyes toward the radiant fu- 
ture. 

Then my father — how I love to write the words — 
wished to go on and finish his story and make more plain 
the many things we all misunderstood during the last year, 
but I pleaded for delay and kneeling before Mrs. Wil- 
liams chair, I looked again into that face on which 
Heaven’s calm was resting and reverently kissed her 
brow and said: 

“But for your words of light and love and your sweet 
blameless life I had never stood the shock of the great 
temptation and been worthy of this hour!” 

Then — after a season of general congratulation and 
rejoicing — my father resumed his tale. I sat listening to 
it with my brain still whirling under the excitement of 
the revelations he had made! 

“Heaven was kind to me again in giving me as friend 
a cousin of my dear departed wife, whose presence sanc- 
tifies this meeting, and to her I committed the care and 
training of my boy, insisting on perfect secrecy and rigid 
discipline and that he be taught to fight life’s battles for 
himself. As the ‘Unknown Friend’ I held communica- 
tion with him occasionally and with Mrs. Williams 
through my New York bankers, and thus the years rolled 
on — such weary, weary years they were — until I became 
so cheered with hopes of worthy manhood in my boy I 
determined to be near him and, if possible, come into 
daily touch and contact with his life. I needed this to 
satisfy my own desires and I needed this to further test 
any qualities he might have of sterling character worthy 

316 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


of a great estate and heavy responsibilities with which I 
wished to endow him. 

‘‘I need not detail all the means I used, but when at 
last after long years I beheld him in my office, an ap- 
plicant for clerkship in my bank, my heart went out in 
such great longing that I could scarce restrain myself. 

“Yet I subdued emotion and determined on some tests 
of his fine sense of honor and of truth and courage. 

“I need not tell in full the story of my deception of 
the public and my deception of my boy. It pained me — 
oftentimes to have the world suspect me sordid, mean, 
avaricious and unjust. It tortured me to have iiiy bov 
suspect, even to believe me bad. Often when compelled 
for some reason to assume before Helena, the part of 
miser or cheat or purse-proud millionaire, or hunter 
after empty, worthless titles of nobility and the gilded 
trapping of aristocracy of other lands, I hated myself 
for the character assumed. 

“I had, however, my growing consolations. In 
Helena I began to see the very excess of wealth pall 
upon her tastes. I watched for these signs of spiritual 
life in her as the gardener watches the first signs of life 
in bulb and plant in Spring time. 

“How joyfully I noted the signs of the new spiritual 
view of things that came to Helena. No miser ever 
gloated more over gold — no propagator of new flowers 
and fruits ever marked the signs of success in his ex- 
periments more eagerly than did I watch each unfolding 
bud of grace in her new and spiritual womanhood. I 
noted, as we perceive the signs of coming spring, her 
gradual loss of interest in the frivolities of fashion, her 
growing discontent with her own life, her severe judg- 
ment of her work and worth, her admiration of the good 
and true and beautiful in others — all, all I noted and 
over them had my secret happiness. 

“And I had even greater joy in Herman’s fidelity be- 
cause the temptation and the strain were greater and more 
direct. I put him in the hottest of the fires. I knew his 
poverty and ambitions. I knew his early fascination 
with his fair pupil, the heiress to be, and knowing that 
poverty alone barred his asking for her hand, I opened 


317 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


up before him a prospect of wealth in offering large in- 
ducements to him to become a banker but found him 
steadfast to his chosen mission. 

“Then I set before him my conduct in the basest light. 
I posed before him as the smooth hypocrite — outwardly 
honest and respectable — but secretly through agents rob- 
bing honest poverty and reaping enormous profits from 
my wealth — not that I hoped to tempt him to a partner- 
ship therein, but only that I might see the stuff and 
metal of his being — whether he would cloak resentment 
to my face, stifle his indignation and shut up cowarrl 
lips or dare rebuke me as a villain to my face. 

“My friends, I think the happiest moment of my life 
in twenty years was when he rose, after listening to my 
villainous schemes of robbery of the poor and innocent 
farmers, and told me to my teeth he thanked kind 
Heaven he was poor and rather than possess a dollar 
of accursed wealth obtained in such a way, he’d beg a 
crust from door to door. 

“Oh, I could have shouted out for gladness. I could 
have pressed him to my heart of hearts, and I feel sure 
my face — could he have read its riddle — would have told 
him my great admiration of his words. 

“And so returning from his mission to the widow — 
where I had sent him to announce that she must quit her 
humble home and go forth into the streets to satisfy 
my greed for money, he came back raging with a fire of 
righteous indignation I had never seen in youth before. 

“One thing I mention now as I have often been 
asked about it — the change that at certain times comes 
over my face, a sort of light that seems to illuminate my 
features. I feel a thrill of sudden emotion — always of 
a pleasurable nature, generally following a recounting of 
some noble deed — and succeeding this, there comes a 
warmth about the head, especially the face, as though 
the atmosphere about were heated and as the heat vibra- 
tions reach the nerves I am conscious of it at the time. 
I believe it is a spiritual atmosphere about me which 
changes to a glow of light and heat when stirred with 
nobler thoughts and deeds. 

“And now, kind friends, my task is nearly ended and 

318 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


I have but to ask your pardon for my long discourse 
and imperfect speech and bid you all a royal, generous 
welcome to these halls.” 

He ceased and Mrs. Williams spoke some noble 
words that seemed to bring a heaven of peace and rest 
into all our hearts. 

Then Helena played and we joined in singing sev- 
eral of the old time songs and these in turn gave way to 
violin and vocal solos, after which we joined in merry 
groups of social converse and the hours sped on toward 
midnight. 

Then refreshments, toasts and general merry-making 
followed and through all I walked about as one bewild- 
ered with excess of joy. 

My father, too, at times, would leave the group he 
was conversing with and coming to my side would press 
me to his heart and calling for Lucille and Helena, em- 
brace us all and often stop in speech because his heart 
was all too full for words. 

Toward morning before we separated he called 
Helena to him and spoke some words in whisper and 
then said to all the guests: 

“This good girl but a few days since gave formal 
notice that she soon would leave these halls and go 
forth, preferring poverty with another to great wealth 
here with me. But now, I’m proud to say, has changed 
her mind and still will be the mistress of this place. And 
Herman, too, has mitigated his harsh views of Ashton 
Hall and its hard master and will be a welcome guest 
and here, ere long, I trust we’ll hear the music of a Wed- 
ding march in which all our souls will blend in harmony 
and love.” 


319 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


THE ETERNAL QUESTION. 

John Gibson Hume. 

Two years from the day when Herman Molson and 
the young ladies of Ashton Hall enjoyed their picnic 
on Chestnut Island, so graphically described in a chap- 
ter of Mr. Molson’s Diary, and just one year after the 
remarkable meeting of Mr. Molson and' Helena Ashton in 
the rose arbor, they were married in Rest Cottage on 
the same Island. Mrs. Williams officiated. 

The wedding was a private one — only the two fami- 
lies from “The Willows” and Ashton Hall being present, 
save that Mrs. Perkins and her children, in the char- 
acter of friends of the family, served the wedding feast. 

The cottage and the arbor were beautifully decorated 
for the occasion and the wolk from the cottage to the 
arbor, along which Helena had gone to meet Herman, 
was festooned most artistically with flowers. 

After the ceremony which was short and most im- 
pressive, the friends enjoyed a ramble exploring the 
beauties of the island, after which they had a delightful 
impromptu concert in Rest Cottage. 

In the evening the island was, for the first time, open 

to invited guests, who came in hundreds from W e 

and surrounding country, and some from a great dis- 
tance, to extend their congratulations. 

The guests of the evening after an ample collation 
and most delightful music and merry-making, departed, 
and an hour later the wedding party, were, in a very 
democratic manner, conveyed in small boats down the 
river to the city — Herman and Helena insisting on go- 
ing in a boat by themselves. 

While with idle oars their boat was drifting down 
the beautiful river, on which the full moon sparkled in 
myriad reflections of her glory, Helena again assumed a 
listening attitude and said: 

“Herman, do you hear again that distant music?” 


320 


The Mystery of Ashton Hall 


% 


“Yes, Helena dear, I hear it but it seems 
nearer and more distinct now. I seem to hear 
and distinguish voices, sweet and familiar voices, and 
they are chanting hymns of praise. And as they sing 
I can shut my eyes and see faces, faces of my childhood 
days, all aglow with love and benediction bending o’er 
us and I feel the impress of soft hands upon my head.” 

And Helena made no answer but to place her hand 
in his and her head upon his breast. 

And Mark Ashton, with a look of quiet happiness 
on his face, but a spirit of deep inquiry in his eyes, sat 

riding in the stern of his small boat down to W e, 

pondering on the problem of his own life and the mys- 
tery of life in general. And in that silent meditation 
he was asking his soul many questions: 

Was it worth the toil, sacrifice and heart-ache of 
twenty years to see this happy hour? 

Would the world ever understand and judge aright 
his character and conduct? 

Was there another tribunal, after death, before 
which all secrets would be revealed, all lives uncovered, 
all natures known? 

Was there a realm in which our loved and our lost 
were living and in which memory and alfection and in- 
terest in earth friends still survived? 

Was the idolized wife and mother, who twenty years 
before had passed “into silence and pathetic dust” still 
lingering near and was she conscious and joyful over 
the happenings of this blissful day? 

The full moon sailed on in majesty through a sea of 
fleecy clouds. 

All nature was wrapped in peaceful silence save the 
rhythmic beating of river’s wavelets against the sides 
of his small boat and the solemn call of a night bird in 
the lofty pines on the river’s brink. 

And Mark Ashton sighed, and shivering in the cool 
October air drew his cloak more closely around him. 


321 












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